Truth Beneath the Rose
by Solitaryxangel
Summary: An ordinary, female stagehand with the skill of an assassin, agrees to help the mysterious Phantom of the Opera in exchange for singing lessons. But when she finds herself protecting Christine from the Phantom, which side will she choose? How will she protect Christine without betraying the Phantom and getting her and everyone she loves killed?
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:**

**Lizzie Hart, an ordinary opera dancer that has the skill of an assassin, agrees to help the mysterious phantom of the opera in exchange for singing lessons. But when she finds herself protecting Christine from the phantom, which side will she choose? How will she protect Christine without betraying the phantom and getting her and everyone she loves killed?**

**A/N This is my first story so please be nice! :) It takes place in both the movie version and the 25th anniversary play. If you guys have any questions about the story feel free to leave a review or message me!**

**Chapter 1**

Lizzie

"It's Raoul," the dumbfounded, 17-year old girl that stood next to me said, with her mouth gaping open at the presence of this young man. Her brown eyes were wide with excitement as the young man that had previously said he would come to tonight's performance walked towards Christine and I. But the excitement quickly went away and turned to utter sadness as the man walked right past her, not giving her a second thought.

What I had learned early on in this opera house was that it was full of surprises. Some were good; like Christine recognizing the rich man as a childhood friend, and some not so good, like when I was told my mom had moved away. What a surprise that was.

I had only been six when I started working in the dancing compartment because our family had no title, and more importantly, no money. My parents worked for hours on end and the three of us still had to struggle. They told me I would live at the opera a few months later, because they couldn't pay for me anymore. Soon after, my father died of disease and without even a goodbye to her only daughter, my mom left and moved to another city, still anonymous to me.

After all the months of crying over my parents lost, I realized my mom had saved my life, for if I came home, I would have caught the disease. But it is still not right to leave without a goodbye. It should be a law. And from that day on, I never cried in their direction again.

"Are you sure it was him?" I questioned the young dancer at my side. Her long, blonde hair was tied with a ribbon behind her neck, and her brown eyes looked up at me, saying, 'yes I'm sure.'

"I've known him all my life, I…" she breathed in, "don't know why…"

"Ladies!" Madame giry interrupted her mourning and motioned us to get into position for our dancing act.

We ran to our positions as the first row of dancers gracefully leaped onstage, with other characters from this play, "Hannibal," hugged the outskirts of the stage. The music was mystic and energetic; matching the costumes the ballerinas were wearing which were also full of color.

I ran onstage, head facing the invisible audience that would soon be replaced by actual people, and leapt into the air with three other dancers beside me. All four of us, Christine, Meg; Madame Giry's daughter; and another dancer named Madeline. We had practiced so hard everyday to get each jump correct, and because we had been binded with chains, it had been a real challenge. But after about five months of training, we got it down.

The four of us jumped over the other group of dancers that had been running backwards toward us, and we all turned towards the red velvet seats and swayed our hips back and fourth. I wasn't the best of dancers, for I didn't really like being a ballerina, but I'd dance for a job.

My long, extremely curly, dark hair was bouncing loosely around my shoulders and my emerald green eyes were focused on one velvet seat, making sure I would not get dizzy. People had often said I was beautiful, making myself feel good, but it would immediately go away as they asked why my attitude didn't match. True, I didn't have a lot of friends in the opera besides Christine, and William who worked the lights, and a few stagehands, but what more did they expect from a 17 year old who had nothing? My attitude could get out of hand, every once in a while, but only if I were provoked- meaning to hurt someone I loved in some way.

I was very protective over Christine. I was afraid she would get displeased and leave me forever. I knew her father died when she was little, like me, and I think that was why we were best friends. We knew our each other felt and we knew how to comfort one another in times of need.

In my earlier years, my father had taught me how to protect myself if I was ever to be kidnapped. He showed me the way of the sword, and I often used those skills to threaten anyone who wanted to hurt Christine. I had only one sword with me at the opera, but I was sure I could use any sort of object to make a point.

Of course, Madame Giry always hated me for almost breaking some of the ballerina's legs for teasing Christine. She always had to find one way each day that proved I did something wrong, just because of that one incident four years ago. She always had a close eye on me, perhaps because of my curious behavior.

But my curious behavior would not be provoked if there weren't so many doors that lead to so may places I didn't know about. So many tunnels that wanted to be explored, and so many trapdoors waiting to be opened. Madame Giry said I was never to go into unexplored areas, such as the trapdoors, but if they were never seen, then why were they made? Who made them? So many questions provoked my curiosity, and I suppose that's why she always watched me.

My train of thought had been interrupted at the sound of a loud _thud_ and my head got dizzy. I found myself flat on the floor with my Pointe shoe caught in a metal hinge that was conveniently placed were my foot should have gone. People's laughter echoed off the walls of the stage as I started to realize what had happened.

The music died off and the routine got thrown off and soon stopped as Christine came over to my aching body that still rested on the floor of the stage.

"Are you alright?" Christine asked me as she helped me get on my back and sit up. I heard the singers, dancers, stagehands, and the two managers that were introduced earlier in the evening murmuring about my clumsiness.

"Yes." I whispered back to Christine as I tried in vain to unhook my shoe from the golden hinge. I did not look up at her, for I could feel my face getting hotter with embarrassment.

"Lizzie, you're making a mess of things!" I heard Madame Giry shout and moments later heard the sound of the shoes hitting the stage floor, coming toward Christine and me.

"Its not my fault this hinge is here." I challenged her as the Pointe shoe finally came undone.

"Because of you we are going to have to redo the entire performance!" she continued. I heard groans from all over the room for we had been practicing all day and this was the final rehearsal.

"Why is this even here?" I asked her while pointing towards the little hinge that created my downfall. "Its not like there is anything down there." I said as I started to reach for the handle that was engraved in the trapdoor.

Her large walking stick came down on the handle to the trapdoor, barley missing my fingers by inches, making a loud _thud._ I noticed how quiet the opera house had gotten.

"You must never go down there!" she shouted.

"But why?"

She bent down next to me and whispered in a harsh tone "I didn't have to take you in. You could be on the streets. I don't want to do this now, or ever."

M. Giry got up from her bent position and said, "Now go get changed and go upstairs. I don't want to see you for this performance. We don't need your clumsiness."

For other people, working the lights and backdrops seemed pretty horrible, but I had worked up there many times before, learned some tricks, and made some friends. Of course, no one else would have this punishment; they would simply have to practice their part harder the next time. I didn't get why M. Giry didn't like me.

I got up from my seated position, and walked offstage. I could hear people laughing behind me, but I didn't know why; it's not like this hadn't happened before.

* * *

"Hey, look who it is!" Edward, a black-haired, 30-year old stagehand said as he saw me climbing up the stairs to the rafters. Four other men were surrounding him, drinking liquor and playing cards, looking up at me and asking why I was up there.

"Got kicked out." I answered shamefully. I swayed my long, beige skirts that tickled my ankles and looked at my feet. It took me about 10 minutes for me to get dressed and put up my hair, but rehearsals were still going on below, and it appeared they didn't have to do the entire play again, just the ballerina's solo part.

"Is William here?" I asked kind of shyly. I had no attraction to him, mostly because he was only 15, two years younger than I was, but, if you knew the stagehands, there would be gossip, even if he were more as a brother.

"Yeah, we saw him walk that way," Edward pointed into another direction "a little earlier."

"Thanks." I smiled at him slightly as I walked in the direction he told me to, and Edward turned back to his card game.

I followed a dark hallway that was dimly lit by only a few candles on the walls. My quiet footsteps didn't dare to echo on the walls on both sides, and my eyesight, very good in the dark was leading me from one hallway to another, until I found myself on the opposite side from were I came up. Screaming was coming from below, and I leaned on the beam that kept us from falling off and looked down to see, not screaming, but Carlotta singing her solo song, "Think of Me." I cringed when she hit the high notes and laughed when she didn't.

"Pretty horrid, huh?" a voice from behind me said. My head whipped around to see William walking up to me. I smiled sadly at him as I started to explain why I was up here.

"Oh, I heard." He interrupted me as I stated that my shoe got caught in a hinge. William had come to the opera just a few months after I had came because he had run away from his home. No one ever knew why. He had chocolate brown hair, which was usually covered with a hat, and warm, dark brown eyes. I always liked him for some reason, maybe because he was a really kind-hearted person that never lied. He even told Carlotta a few weeks ago that she was a horrible singer- but got a slap across the face, and although he said it was worth the look on her face, he had always been a little uneasy around her.

Suddenly, like a flash of lightening, a backdrop was loosened and then fell onto the stage, right on top of Carlotta- thankfully, because she was about to do her vocals. She screamed like a cat being put in water and yelled for people around her to help get the backdrop off. It would have been funny only for the fact that the managers would most likely blame me.

They were shouting for Buquet, the usually drunk stagehand that worked the backdrops as William and I ran towards the source of the accident to try and figure out what had gone wrong.

"For god's sake, man, what's going on up there?" one of the new managers yelled up at us. Buquet pulled on a levy until the backdrop was off the ground and back into place, and started to explain his story.

"As god's my witness I was not at my post," he started. Everyone tuned in to hear his explanation and the opera house got quiet. "Please monsieur, there's no one there, but if there is, well then, it must be a ghost!" he shouted so everyone would obviously hear.

Girls started screaming and men gasped at his answer.

A tale had been told to me when I first came to the opera, and it was about 'the phantom of the opera.' They said he had paper-like skin, no nose, a white gleaming mask and gold, sunken eyes. They also said, if you ever had the chance to see his masked face, it would be the last sight you'd ever see. Everyone around the opera was superstitious, saying "keep your hands at the level of your eyes" so you wouldn't get strangled by his lasso, and leaving box five open for his use during performances.

I didn't believe in this 'ghost' that haunted the opera because no incidents happened. Only small things like this, but nothing that could prove his existence.

"You find anything?" I heard William shout to me from another room. I almost forgot why I was here.

"No, nothing." I shouted back. I turned to leave the open room when something caught my eye- a door that I haven't seen before in my life. It sat at the farthest corner of the room, and even though it was wide open, I couldn't see anything past the lintel- it was pitch black.

My curious behavior got the best of me as I started toward the doorway that seemed to lead to the unknown. I stepped in front of the darkened doorway before me and tried to look past the darkness without going inside, but it was in vain. No light drained into it and no candles were lit inside. I peaked my head inside the doorway, to find it smelled like moss and the air was damp and heavy. My good eyesight found very faintly that there was a staircase heading in a downward direction just inside the doorway.

My eyebrows came up as I questioned whether or not to explore this staircase, or follow Madame Giry's advice and not go into unknown places. Obviously, I didn't want to follow the little voice in my head that said not to go down there, it was my nature.

I slowly took the first step down and found eerie silence following my footstep._ How could this staircase be pitch black if the stage is right below it? _I thought as I unconsciously took another step down.

It seemed like an hour as I took more steps down until someone shouted my name behind me. "Lizzie!"

I snapped out of my thoughts and whipped my head back up toward the doorway. William was standing in the doorway, only seven steps away from me. It felt like I was inside the dark staircase for a lifetime, and it looked like I was much father down than just seven steps- more like 20.

"What are you doing?" he practically yelled at me. "You don't know where this leads."

"I- I'm s- sorry." I stuttered defensively. He had never yelled at anyone, especially not to me.

"I don't want you to see you near that door again, and especially not going down there!" I was surprised at his sudden emotion, and slightly drew back for his booming voice.

William took a large sigh in, and motioned me to come back up towards the light. "Something is going on over here." He said in a lighter voice.

I gave him a questioning look as he walked away from the doorway, and carefully climbed up the stairs, for they were very large and steep. As I got to the top stair, and walked onto the wooden planks, I heard yelling from down below on the stage.

I ran to where William was standing, next to the rail, and looked down. Carlotta was screaming at the new managers while they tried reasoning with her.

"She's gone." William said in a sarcastic tone and as if on cue, Carlotta ran off the stage, crying of embarrassment with getting tackled with a backdrop.

Everyone looked frustrated and lost as the managers yelled and blamed other people at the misfortune they were having.

Even I was surprised at the sudden turn of events, for one moment the opera house sounded like a torture machine, and now it was, for the most part, quiet.

"A full house Andre" one of the two managers said, "we shall have to refund a full house!"

I looked down at Christine, who was talking to Meg, and got a creative idea. Christine was always talking about her singing an unbelievable performance someday, but I knew she was to shy to even speak to the rest of the dancers compared to singing in front of hundreds of strangers. I knew she was a brilliant singer also. Maybe I could help her…

"Christine Daae could sing it, sir!" I shouted from the backdrop platform over many voices. Christine looked at me like I was unbelievably crazy while the two managers looked up at me, then at Christine.

"A chorus girl?" the new manager named Firmin shouted in my direction. "Very silly!" The two managers shook their heads with lack of ideas and stared to talk again. I had to think of something fast in order for Christine to sing that night.

"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher…?" I lied as the confidence in my voice vanished and they looked back up at me again. I jumped down to a lower platform that was closer to the stage as I saw Christine's obviously dumbfounded face. The managers had a puzzled face as they turned back to Christine.

"Who?" they challenged her. Christine, who looked scared for her life, stepped toward them in evident discomfort with all the attention on her.

"I… I don't know his name, sir." Christine squeaked as she looked up at me as if saying, 'what are you thinking? I don't have a teacher!' The managers threw their arms up as they murmured their bad comments of Christine, and this obviously made me angry. I had to get Christine to sing tonight, or embarrassment would be set on Christine for life.

"Oh come on!" I said as my attitude was setting in my voice. "Let the girl sing tonight! Unless you _want _to lose money the first night you're here!" I taunted them as I could see them reasoning if they should let Christine sing.

"You have nothing to lose." I added, and that seemed to make their decision. They turned toward Christine and told her to come center stage.

Christine looked as frightened as a lost puppy, and I didn't like putting her in this position, but a voice in my head said this would be very good for her.

"Come on, then." The managers coaxed her to come to the stage. Everyone surrounded Christine, anticipated to hear her voice.

She nodded toward the maestro and he began playing the solo tune on the piano for Christine. I could see her trembling before her lines even came to her, and I knew she was scared for her life, though it wasn't the first time tonight.

"Think of me" she sang softly, as if putting a baby to sleep. Confidence had run away a long time ago, and her voice trembled as much as her body. "Think of me fondly," she drew a large breath and looked to where I was standing. "When we've said goodbye…"

It looked like she was about to faint as she started to run off the stage and disappear forever, but I quickly raised both my hands, signaling her to stay and continue. Thankfully, she did.

"Remember me every so often, promise me you'll try." Her voice faltered.

"Come on, Christine!" I shouted to her, over the piano. She didn't look at me, but I knew she heard.

"And on that day, that not so distant day," something insider clicked as I heard her voice gain more confidence, "when you are far away and free."

Christine's eyes sparkled as she looked at the hundreds of red seats in front of her and she took the top of the stage.

"If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me."

Christine was sure to sing that night as the managers looked at her with confident approval as she sang the rest of the song perfectly. I heard William come down to the platform I was now sitting on and came next to me to watch her sing the rest of the song.

* * *

I opened red curtains as Christine came onto the stage and sang, for I was still working the stage, and would be for the rest of the night.

William and I watched from the rafters as Christine sang like a bird. She sang with much hidden emotion, as if this role was made for her, and a couple times during the performance, I saw her give me a smile as if saying 'thank you!'

"Of me!" Christine belted out the last notes of the performance as she threw the red and yellow scarf and fell to the floor, kneeling on the ground.

I quickly closed the heavy curtains as an enormous applause filled the opera house. I could see everyone getting up from his or her seats to appreciate Christine's beautiful voice and as fast as I closed them, I drew the curtains back so Christine could do her final bows.

Her eyes fiercely sparkled with happiness at her large triumph and I backed away from the curtains, and clapped as loud as I could. I hurriedly walked from the plank I was on to get to a railing to see Christine clearly, but as I walked through the backdrop room I could help but looked in the direction of the mysterious door.

It disappeared! The door that once showed nothing but black, was gone. There was nothing on the wall that showed evidence that the door had once been there. I tilted my head, as if thinking if I looked at the wall in a different angle, it would appear, and patted the sword that was strapped to my side for security. The long silver blade attached to a metal handle that was engraved with a complicated design was the only sword I had ever owned, for the ones that I practiced with when I was little, were my dad's. I had made this sword in a little less than a year, 5 years ago.

I carefully walked toward the corner, as if something were to pop out, and steadily felt the cold wall. Nothing.

"Hmm" I mumbled as I suddenly applied more pressure on the wall. Suddenly, the wall pushed inwards, and as I drew back from sudden surprise, a small part of the wall was pushed back and opened on its own to show a darkened doorway. My eyes were wide as I watched the door open before my eyes, and the loud noise of stone drift away in the air.

The smell that I once smelled before had come to my nose- moss. I glanced behind my shoulder, making sure no one heard the loud noises of the door, and more importantly, to make sure William didn't catch me by this door.

I slowly backed away from the door, not knowing why, and inspected the wall next to it, and the door itself. Everything was so ordinary about the details of this contraption; I didn't know why I didn't think of pushing on the wall in the first place. I looked back into the pitch-black staircase, and was about to take a step in, but I heard the footsteps of someone below the floor I was on, and stepped back.

I heard voices of many people, and I figured everyone was filling in the main hallway backstage to celebrate, and somehow got the door to close, so it looked like a blank wall. I couldn't go explore it yet, there was to many people, and someone was to see me and tell someone.

I turned on my heel to go back to my dressing room, but on the table, there lay a left behind hat- just like the ones William wears. A sly idea was forming in my head as I walked toward it, and picked it up.

_No one will recognize me_ I thought as I curled my hair into a bun, and then shoved it into the hat as I placed on my head. Loose hairs came out of the hat immediately and I tucked them behind my ear.

I took a lit lantern that hung from the wall nearby, and opened the door once more.

I took a huge breath inwards, and started my descend down the steep staircase.

* * *

**A/N what do you think? please R&R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or it's songs and characters.**

Chapter 2: The Meeting

I descended quickly down the stairs because I didn't want anyone to see me go through the doorway, checking behind my back often, but as soon as I was out of sight, the door that opened without a pull, slammed shut as if someone threw it. I looked back abruptly, half-expecting someone to be standing there, but there was nothing but pure blackness. My candle was the only seen light. I turned back, and kept treading down the deep staircase, without a thought of where I was going.

I tried to quiet my footsteps but they echoed up and down the walls for miles. When I got far enough under, a railing on the wall was soon provided to keep someone from making wrong footing and falling down.

As my alert senses picked up, I still didn't understand why I hadn't gotten to the floor. It didn't show any sign of it- like the staircase kept on going, and going, and going.

After a while I started to get a little paranoid because I had been walking down for about ten minutes, and the staircase hadn't changed from the first steps I took. It was weird, as if this staircase went straight into the center of the earth. I had gradually slowed my pace down, getting more alert and focusing on my hearing much more, as I held more tightly to the railing, making sure I wouldn't tumble down- even though that would be the faster way to go.

My thoughts started surrounding me and my senses came down as I looked into the darkness before me. Images of ghosts and other scary creatures from a child's imagination suddenly started to appear in the dark. I shook those away quickly, for I was not one to get scared in the dark; the dark was actually peaceful to me. It provided a sense of comfort since my childhood.

I remembered when I had gotten locked in the attic of my parents little home when I was about five. It was during a cold afternoon when I pushed opened the trapdoor on the ceiling to look for something. When I climbed up into the attic, the skirts of my dress caught onto the edge of the door, and pushed it down. The little trapdoor slammed down so hard it had moved the lock on the outside to its holding position. I had screamed all day for help, but in vain for my parents were both working on the fields that day, and night soon drifted into the village, making the attic pitch black. I remembered me curled up, hugging my knees, and trying to get warm for it was winter while I hummed a tune that my mother once sang to me.

"Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep, and save these questions for another day." She would sing to me. I repeated this song over and over again, for it was comforting and beautiful but I soon fell asleep to the sound of my childish voice. When I woke up during that same night, I found myself back in my own bed, with a candle lit on the nightstand. My father shortly came in afterwards and told me he found me in the attic, just where I fell asleep, and thought that I had died. As a child, of course, I laughed at his theory and embraced him at the moment. But now I realized I could of died of hypothermia if he found me there a day later.

My foot suddenly hit the stone floor very hard and I looked at my feet- there were no other steps. I was finally at the bottom.

I lifted my dimly lit lantern to eyes height and found a narrow stone hallway, walls colored with dirt that had evidently been sitting there for decades, dust covering every inch of the floor, and a green growing mold was settled in the cracks. I saw another lantern hanging on the wall, but it was not lit, so I walked kind of eagerly up to it, as though I made sure I messed up all the dust and took the candle inside my lantern, then lit it up. It came to life as the flame caught, and the dim glow surrounded the entire wall around it. At the edge of the light, I saw another lantern without flame, and lit that one as well.

I carefully kept this chain reaction going until I stepped on something softer than the cold stone- wood. I looked up from the candles I was lighting and saw the that the hallway had not been a stone, cold, dreary one, but one that looked like some hallways in the dormitories upstairs.

My eyes adjusted quickly because of a faint grey glow coming from somewhere up ahead. My heart raced as I carefully walked toward it- careful not to make any noise because, now, I didn't know if someone was down here.

When I neared the glow, I became aware that it was some sort of window with bars- like in a prison. Tables sat on either side of the wall with lots of household items- vases or rags- and the floors creaked very loudly as I neared the window.

I had to look very carefully in the little light that was provided in order to make sure I wouldn't run into any tables and break something.

As I looked though the rather large opening in the wall, I gasped at what I saw. It was a room as big as the entire opera house upstairs and was filled with hundreds of red velvet seats with a different design on every one, facing a grand stage.

It resembled the very stage used upstairs, and looked even bigger. A slight smile came upon my lips as I walked toward another window a few feet ahead, and found a very large arched door next to it, opening to the stage. Where I was at must have been backstage to this glorious room.

I was stunned at what I had found, for there was practically another-bigger- opera house stage hundreds of feet below another one. I grabbed hold of my lantern to see the setting more clearly and smile at the brilliant sight.

After some time to take this sight in, my thoughts immediately went to Christine's performance.

I thought of how breathtaking she looked as she took the stage with total confidence, the way her beautiful flowing voice echoed throughout the opera. My smile decreased on realizing Christine was probably looking for me right now to share her great fortune, but a side of me was excited to show Christine this beautiful stage.

Unfortunately, I couldn't help to feel a little jealous of Christine at that moment, for she would become the most successful singer in all of Paris because of my word- but I shook it away and tried to change it to total happiness.

I stepped onto the stage and took another look around- making sure everything was safe for me- and put the lantern at my feet. Everything in this room was so elegant, making me not want to touch anything as if it would break. I clasped my hands together at my stomach and took in a deep breath.

I slowly walked to center stage. It felt as if I were singing that beautiful song from the previous opera.

"Think of me." I sang softly. My untrained voice echoed throughout the entire room, then back to silence.

"Think of me fondly," I sang a little louder, "when we've said goodbye…" my voice cracked at the last note, and my hand came up to my throat as if I were stopping the horrible noise.

I cleared my throat and began again, walking slowly upstage. "Remember me, every so often, promise me you'll try." No crack. "And then you find, that once again you long to take your heart back and be free." My voice became louder.

"If you'll ever find a moment, spare a thought for me…"

I looked at my feet and sadly smiled to myself. I knew I would never be as good as Christine no matter how my lessons or tricks I learned. Sometimes when I was completely alone on the stage upstairs, I'd dream of myself singing something spectacular in front of many people and making headlines- and history. But someone always ruined that dream, and for the most part, it was mostly myself.

I started to hum the rest of the song very quietly as I walked toward the many red seats in front of me to take a closer look. There had been someone who took the time to hand- engrave every single one of the sides of the seats, because they all had different designs. The red velvet was as soft as a cats fur but defiantly needed some cleaning. Who knows how long these seats were hidden from the upstairs world.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind came through the huge room, blowing out all the candles I had previously lit, including my own.

Total darkness captured every inch of light and stowed it away. I looked up abruptly- where had the wind come from? My heart started running faster every second- I could not see five steps in front of me, and that was dangerous.

I heard a distant creak of the floor and my heart leapt. I stayed completely still, listening to my full strength and breathing very slowly. My eyes were wide, trying to capture as much light as they can, and with fright. Who else would be down here? Were the stories true? No, they cant be, there has never been evidence of his existence.

Another creak, but this time behind me somewhere in the seats. My head whipped around at the noise.

I slowly started to walk backward, still facing the seats, and very quietly, stepped onto the stage, and ran toward the portcullis, leaving my lantern.

The air suddenly got colder as I ran under the archway, and tried to find my way back down the hallway, but it was harder than I imagined because there was no light. I ran into the tables and sometimes into walls. My ragged breath started coming in short gasped of fear as I tried to follow the wall, but the wall suddenly ended, and there were no steps.

_Did I miss a turn? Did I even take a turn at all? Why is this so complicated?_

Panic increased in my body, as I understood that I was lost. Hopelessly lost…

I turned back the other way the try and follow the wall back to the stage, but after 2 minutes of following the wall, I still hadn't run into the stage. This was a labyrinth, changing at every turn and never knowing if you'll ever come out. The wall took a turn, and knowing I was getting myself more lost, I turned with it. I didn't want to be lost without a wall to hold onto.

Just as I turned, my eyes focused on a slim beam of light coming from the roof of this tunnel a few yards ahead of me. My eyes counteracted against the light but moments later, they started to adjust.

My heart stopped as I noticed something- or someone- standing in the thin beam of light. I instantly turned, gave a silent cry of fright, and ran only to be stopped by another wall. I saw the figure start toward me with incredible speed, but my instincts kicked in, and I whipped out my sword from its sheath and wacked whatever was coming toward me with the flat surface of my sword. Everything at that moment felt like slow motion, I think I even saw the shadow's head whip backward.

Obviously, the figure had not seen it coming, for it fell to the ground. I didn't wait for it to come back up. Instead I took off running in a different direction, sword at hand, with my other arm sticking out in front of me, notifying me for any incoming walls.

I took a few turns left and right, but soon I stopped in my tracks to see the same figure again, in another beam of light- or it was the same one? Everything looked the same!

Again, I turned and started running, but as fast as I could blink, the shadow was in front of me and grabbed my wrist. Obviously, this figure was a man, and a very strong one too.

I fought against his insanely strong grip, biting and dangerously waving my sword toward his head, but he counteracted with my movements and stopped my sword from hitting his head with his own. I faintly saw the glow of this silver sword and with all my strength; I lashed my arm from his grip. I was free.

I swung my sword at his chest, but missed by an inch, and he instantly started his attack. I deflected them, but he was very fast, strong, and smart. I was backing back up the hallway, as he moved toward me with his sword always almost hitting me.

I felt my hair, still back in its hat; bounce up and down, giving me a little pain in my head. I was surprised I hadn't run into a wall, for if I did, it would be the end of me.

I was getting tired, but his movements were still strong and nimble and I was having a hard time counteracting them. Suddenly, in a turn of events, my mind told me to get a grip, and I started fighting back, with stronger attacks, and soon, I was forcing this man on his heels. I could tell that he felt my stronger, more sufficient attacks, and instantly came onto my level. My sight became white as I passed a beam of light from the low ceiling, then back to darkness.

Apparently, he knew where he was going, for suddenly, he took a turn and disappeared for a moment, and then out of nowhere, he appeared behind me. He didn't move as I turned and ran toward him and I swung my sword at him with all my might, but my sword hit something else- glass.

It was a mirror that I had damaged forever, but it didn't matter, for when I turned around, I saw him charging at me, and I had just enough time to hold my sword up by my chest to block his sword.

I fell backward and he shoved me with all his might- landing hard on the ground.

I was lying on my stomach when I quickly looked back up at him to see his next move, but he wasn't there- just darkness.

I got up and felt a trickle of liquid running down my face, for it had been scratched by the stone. I stumbled forward to the wall and tried to ease my ragged breathing. Without warning, the man came out of the darkness and tried my skills again. I was backing up quickly, feet sore from running, and arms hurting from this torture.

This man swung his sword while I was still recovering from his other attacks, and I was hit square across the chest. I let out a cry of pain as I dropped my sword and fell to the ground without caring where I landed.

He too dropped his sword and grabbed both of my forearms and without difficultly, lifted me up as if I weighed no more than a feather and pinned me against the wall. White blinded my eyes, for we were under a scarce beam of light, but moments of letting my eye adjust, I saw him.

A white gleaming mask covered half of his face, but it didn't hide his sharp ragged breaths or narrow gold eyes. My eyes were wide and filled with horror as people's voices echoed in the back of my mind.

"_If you ever get the chance to see his mask, it would be the last sight you will ever see."_

I let out a great scream of fear that the entire world must have heard, but I didn't struggle to free his grip, for he painfully stuck me to the wall, without my feet even on the ground.

His eyes instantly grew softer at the end of my scream, and unexpectedly ripped my hat off the top of my head. My long browns locks fell to my chest and shoulders as he abruptly let me go, and I fell to the ground. He backed away out of the light, and I saw his eyes scream with confusion. The mask didn't help my judgment.

His long black cape followed his graceful movements into the dark and as soon as he appeared before, he was gone.

I stayed lying on the ground for at least ten minutes after this sudden turn of events, trying to process what had just happened.

_He's real… he's real _is all that echoed in my mind for a along time. _And I fought him… and I didn't die._

Pain channeled throughout my body, going toward my face and my collarbone, where I was struck. I gasped inwardly as my sense came back to me and clutched my chest. It stung badly as I held the wound tighter, hoping it would help.

I slowly got up from where I was lying, because I thought I heard something in the distance, and leaned against the wall when I started to walk in the other direction.

I let out short gasps whenever my chest felt more pain, but suddenly, I remembered my sword was still lying somewhere on the ground. I shrank back onto the floor, as I crawled toward the beam of light where it had gotten lost. I searched the floor but it was nowhere to be found! I began to panic, though it wasn't the first time, as my hands covered the entire area.

Luckily, something hard and metal hit the palm of my hand, and I found myself grabbing hold of my trusted sword and leaning on it to help me up as if it were a cane.

I didn't bother looking for the hat and I had lost my sheath long ago, I just started walking in one direction and hoped for the best. No light guided my direction, and I just hoped I wouldn't fall into the phantom's famous traps I had heard about.

I was now the ultimate believer in him, for I actually saw him, and lived to tell the story, but I still needed to get out of these cellars.

From what I saw of him, he had- obviously- a mask as pure white as a pearl, golden eyes that resembled a savage wolf's and jet black hair that was slicked back. He was very clever and had lots of tricks up his sleeve, making me think about how he worked those contraptions so easily and without sound.

I remembered Madame Giry's advice about not going into the trapdoors and William's about not going into unknown places- oh how I betrayed them! If I did listen maybe I wouldn't be in this mess.

I took a few more turns and thought of how stupid I was! I ignored two people's advice and look where I was now. If I ever got out of here, I promised myself I would beg for their forgiveness, and always listen to them.

I realized what I should of done before I came down here earlier. I should have tied a piece of long rope to the door and held onto it as I walked down, so I could retrace my steps.

If only I could redo the past…

* * *

After countless hours of feeling walls and going with their turns I began to give up. I rested against the cold wall and felt myself sink to the floor. My face was buried in my hands as I began to feel tears form in my eyes. I had never been so lost in my life.

But no, I wouldn't cry about this. I took a deep, shaky breath to stop the tears from rolling down and looked up in the darkness that never seemed to fade. I got up from my seated position, put a hand on the wall, and kept walking. I had to get back up and see Christine, I had to forgive everyone that deserved it and, more importantly, I had to get out of the phantom's grasp.

I wouldn't lose his little game- was this why he let me go? To watch me suffer down here and watch me slowly get killed from the inside with guilt? No. I wouldn't lose; I would live to tell this story.

All this motivated me to push through the pain I was feeling and keep going.

A few steps later, I saw I light- a lantern! I instantly hobbled toward it and took it off the wall. I walked a few more steps forward and saw another arched doorway. It wasn't one I had seen before, but inside, I saw a hallway with lanterns lit up every few steps.

Still in touch with the wall, I walked down this hallway while looking up at the ceiling. It had many different designs all over it, and soon, these designs were carried onto the wall. Faces were carved in the walls and torches were lit on either side of the wall.

The only thing that had bothered me was that I was going downhill, and not up to the surface. But if it meant light- something I never knew I needed to keep me sane- I was motivated to stay on the trail.

I took a few more turns till I saw something that I had only heard about- the underground lake.

_How big is it under here?_ I asked myself as I realized everyday, I walked over this large empire without even knowing.

The lake started off narrow, then widened and took a turn. I tried to look to see what was after the turn, but all I saw was darkness.

No, I didn't want to go into the darkness again. Also, I didn't want to get near the lake, because I never learned how to swim. It was surprising to most people when I told them this, because with all my survival skills, swimming was not one of them. Also, lots of others learned how to swim when they were children, while I had not.

I turned back from the vast lake and started to tread back up the hallway, but a narrow, unseen hallway on the edge of the lake caught my eyes. I guess curiosity was not a good trait to have in this situation.

I grabbed a torch from the hallway wall and stepped onto the narrow path. I had to walk sideways so I didn't fall into the lake. One hand held up the torch in front of my eyes, and the other held onto my sword.

The hallway widened as the lake turned, but it didn't follow the lake, it went its own way in an upward direction.

_Maybe this is my way out!_ I thought happily as I started to run up the pathway. But I was caught off guard as the ground moved beneath my feet, and fell into the lake below.

I screamed as the floor fell, but just in time, I grabbed the edge of the floor to avoid falling to my death. My feet dangled beneath me as they tried not to get swallowed up in the dark lake as my screaming ceased. I needed to think; I hadn't come this far to quit now.

The strength in my arms increased in attempt to pull myself up, but it didn't work. My arms started to become frail as I was losing the strength to hold myself up. I tried once again to pull myself up and got the top part of my body up.

My legs still dangled but I easily saved them as I rolled to the side and I let out a large, irritated sigh while I attempted to catch my breath.

Once my breathing was back to normal, I sat up and got to my feet. There was only darkness in front of me now, as if the rest of the hallway didn't exist because the phantom figured no one would make it this far. I smiled inwardly as I knew I was the only one to make it this far in his little torture game.

I started forward again, but I realized I had lost my torch to the lake. I didn't want to go into the darkness without light, especially when I knew there were traps infested in this area.

I looked back toward the trapdoor, and saw it was too big of a jump to make it across. There was no going back. I sighed, and walked forward slowly; leaning on the wall and making sure I didn't lose my way.

After a while of walking by the wall, it was completely dark, but the path was still going uphill. I still hoped this would lead me up to the surface, but hope was starting to run away as I saw no other light ahead of me.

Suddenly, I heard something ahead of me- a voice. I stopped abruptly to listen.

_What was that?_ I asked myself. The voice kept talking- no not talking- singing.

I grew completely silent as I tried to determine were the voice was coming from. I placed my ear on the wall to see if it was inside, but no- it wasn't coming from there. I listened again.

The voice became louder and easier to make out the words.

"Help me make the music of the… night…" I didn't have to look for the voice anymore, for that last line of that unknown song was hypnotizing and made me come walk straight toward it. The beautiful voice drifted through the wind as it decreased in noise and went completely silent.

I didn't even notice I had been walking toward it with my eyes closed until the voice stopped. I suddenly opened my eyes to see myself in a dark room, but light coming from the floor a few yards ahead.

_Where did I come from?_ I again asked myself as I looked around for the door that I didn't know existed. I turned back toward the dim light and slowly started for it.

Abruptly, loud, mystic music filled the entire underground as my walked stopped to listen to the loud music. It continued for a few more minutes, and I dared to continue walking.

As I neared the light, I noticed a grate placed on the roof of the room, and inside the room… a bed with… whom?

_Christine!_

I almost made the mistake of screaming as I kneeled on the grate that separated Christine and I. She was lying on the strangest bed I had ever seen in my life- a swan; and she lied there, unmoving.

My first thought is that she was dead, until I looked at her rising and falling chest, knowing she was asleep.

But if she was asleep, then why wasn't she waking up to this loud piano in the distance? I didn't know.

Instantly, I grabbed my sword from my belt and tried prying the grate open, for I was too much in a hurry to think about it and make the right move. My sword wasn't doing it so I took it out, and shoved the tip back into the little opening I made.

Badly enough, the sword escaped my slippery grip, and fell onto the metal grate, making a noise louder than the piano itself. I stayed silent as the piano came abruptly to a stop, knowing the player must have heard my noisy carelessness.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes, as if this was a bad dream and I needed to wake up. Silence had never been so deadly to me until this moment because whoever lived here, was not happy with my presence.

A few minutes went by without a single noise, so I carefully got up from my sitting position, careful not the touch the grate, and grabbed my sword. I looked down at Christine again, thinking there must be a way to get her out of here.

I was scared for Christine, who knew what the phantom did to her. I remembered how hypnotizing his voice was- even the greatest singer in history could not compare to the beauty and softness of his voice.

I took in a silent breath and turned to leave to try and find another way in, for I thought her captor had left.

But this idea changed as I suddenly felt a gloved hand wrap around my mouth and my waist, restricting any movements.

As I fought for freedom against his strangely familiar grip, his hand moved to my right elbow, and I felt him apply a massive amount of pressure on one part of my inner arm.

A warm feeling suddenly surrounded me as my eyelids became heavy, and darkness overtook any light in my eyes, then everything went black.

* * *

**A/N Hello fellow readers! I need your help to tell me how I did on this chapter. And yes, it was inspired by the Kopit version of Phantom, when she saw the stage and stuff… Also, I'd like to disclaim the song "Goodnight My Angel" to its original creator. Please R&R! **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: New Beginnings

"_He's here the Phantom of the Opera. Beware the Phantom of the Opera." _Voices echoed throughout my mind as I felt an uncomfortable pounding in my head and soreness in the rest of my body.

"Ugh." I moaned as I slowly tried to move my hand to my head. Something jingled, as my wrists felt heavy. My hand was chained by something metal.

My eyes flickered open with difficulty as I breathed slowly. Confusion washed over me the moment my eyes adjusted to the provided, dim light.

_What happened? _I asked myself. My eyes got more wide as I took in the sight in front of me.

I was facing a lake, with mist covering most of the black water, and a large, closed portcullis made sure you didn't go anywhere. On the shore, I saw a stone floor, with candles decorated everywhere, all leading up to a grand piano. Farther ahead, stone steps were placed beside closed curtains, and lead up to a turn and I saw a glimpse of an opening, but nothing more. It was dark; so dark. No, I didn't like the darkness anymore; it was deathly.

_Where am I? _I lifted up my wrist again but it was still stuck. I quickly looked down and saw my hands were… bound! I had been hopelessly chained to a chair- a heavy one on that matter- with little slack. What was this?

I tried freeing my arms from the chains by flexing my muscles and moving my arms in every which way, but they held tight. The more I fussed with them, the more powerless I felt. I let out a short sigh as I gave up trying to free myself.

My head whipped up toward the lake at the sound of someone's footsteps. There was no one there.

The footsteps kept getting louder, than silenced as I looked all around. My head turned to face behind me when I saw him. His back was facing me, as his hands rummaged through papers on a desk. I didn't even know there was room behind me it was so dark.

I turned back toward the lake as I tried one last time to free myself- not caring how much noise I made, but the chains didn't fail.

"I wouldn't try that." My head whirled around to find him facing me, looking me square in the eyes, gaze never failing. It didn't matter how dark it was anymore, his eyes glowed the color gold. He calmly started walking up to the chair I was tied to with his hands behind his back, never looking away from me.

"Struggle too much in those chains and you're hand will be cut clean" he informed me as he walked in front of the chair. He bent down so we were at each other's eye level and looked me straight into the eyes again. I tried not to flinch at the sight of his mask. "And we wouldn't want that, now would we?" he added in a hint of sarcasm.

I stayed absolutely silent as he came up form his position and started walking around the chair as if he were inspecting me. I was still confused, and so many questions stayed unanswered.

_What had happened? How did I get here? Where was I? What was he going to do to me? What had he done with Christine… Christine!_

I had almost forgotten of my dear friend unconscious in the large swan bed a few hours- maybe days ago. I couldn't stay silent for her sake.

"Where is Christine?" I demanded suddenly. He stopped circling the chair and looked down at me with narrow eyes. I may have spoken to loud and too soon. My confidence shot downward, as he didn't move to speak.

"I took Mademoiselle Daaé back up to the surface, I assure you." he said surprisingly calm. I made myself believe him.

_At least she's safe now._ A moment passed, and I dared to ask another question. "What made her go unconscious?" I asked uneasily.

"That is none of your concern." He replied swiftly. That didn't make me feel any better. His golden eyes drifted upward as he started to walk away from my chair.

He headed pass his piano and up the stairs, looking on either side of him, but before he could disappear I said, "Where am I?"

He looked back at me and came to the edge of the stairs.

"My domain." He spread his arms out, gesturing toward the room itself and started back down the stairs- toward me. I couldn't understand why he was walking all over; he must be looking for something.

"Now I have some questions for you, Miss Hart." He said returning to the chair I was tied to.

_Miss Hart? _My eyes widened.

"How did you get down here?" he questioned me.

"How do you know my name?" I challenged. I knew I was pushing it, for I saw him take a shaky breath inwards, restraining himself.

"I know everything about this opera," I saw him look away for a moment, then back at me, "and everything about you." With that, he turned away from me, and my heart officially stopped.

_Everything?_

"I know that you came here when you were young," his voice grew loud as it echoed off the stone walls around us, "befriended Christine Daae, and have many skills with a sword, must I add more?"

I stayed silent, but my fear grew at a steady pace. What kind of powers did this man posses?

"Except, I don't know how you got down here," he continued, his voice drifting over the lake. "How?"

I thought about this for a moment, thinking if I should tell him or not. I decided to tell him because all I wanted to do was to get out of here as quick as I could, safely. I answered softly, "I got lost."

"You can't 'accidently' walk into a trapdoor, Miss Hart," he informed me. "What passage did you take to come down here?" he asked a little louder, obviously getting frustrated.

"I followed a staircase from the backdrop room." He stayed silent, waiting for me to continue. "And then I saw the stage." It wasn't a lot, but I didn't know what else to add.

He turned swiftly toward me and walked past the chair as he cursed under his breath. I painfully turned my head to watch him stand by his desk, shift some papers and finally pick one up. He studied it for a little while as I caught a small glimpse of what was on the paper- a sketch of some sort of building maybe?

My neck became sore quickly for it was turned at an angle it was never intended to be. He walked toward the lake again- still studying the paper, until he was standing in front of me. Suddenly, he began to crumple the paper, which made me flinch.

"Not good," he murmured. "Not good."

The Phantom abruptly faced me and took a long breath inwards while he put both his hands behind his back. I looked up at him with shy eyes. He immediately walked past me again, dropped the crumpled paper, grabbed another something from his desk, then walked up to my side and kneeled down, grabbing my wrist. Thankfully, he unlocked the chains from my arms, and I instantly applied pressure to them, for they were becoming sore.

"How did you find your way up above the room?" he asked forcefully while he got up.

_The room? Which room? The stage? No, no wait. The room that Christine was in._

"I don't know."

"You're lying to me." he stood in front of the chair, not letting me get up. "How did you get above?"

I took a deep breath in and decided to answer as truthfully as I could- for he, I knew, could obviously read my mind. "I followed a lighted hallway and found a lake. I was about to go back until I saw a path next to it and decided to follow that." I looked up at him and he was staring down at me with no emotion. I bowed my head and continued on. "Then it got darker," I was careful not to mention the incident with me almost falling to my death, and also the fact I got hypnotized by his voice "and- well I don't know- I was just… on top of the room."

I felt his stare burning on my head, but I didn't look at him. Instead, I stayed quite until he spoke.

"How close would you say you are to Miss Daaé?" asked the Phantom, suddenly. I looked up at him, confused at his weird question, but his gaze didn't break. He kept on looking down at me with his unbearable stare and luckily broke the gaze a little later, walking behind me.

I stood up once he left and thought about the answer for some time.

"I thought you knew everything about me." I stated plainly as he narrowed his eyes at me.

"Answer the question, Elizabeth." He said dangerously.

_Of course he knows my first name too_ I thought. No one ever called me elizabeth anymore. I took another breath in as I thought of a thorough answer.

"I met her when I first came to the opera house," I started. The Phantom walked toward me, for he was very interesting in my answer for some reason. "She was very nice and comforted me whenever I got sad, and… and she told me many stories about her past, so I suppose since I know about her childhood… we are close."

"What exactly did she tell you about?" His voice became calm and soothing, coaxing me to continue.

I didn't understand why all this was important. I just needed to get out of here alive, and not get Christine involved. "She told me about her father, before he died, and her childhood friends…" I instantly remembered the man that I dared called Christine's friend that must have came to the other nights performance, and hopefully noticed her. But I still didn't understand why he was so interested in Christine.

"Did she tell you about… the Angel of Music?" I looked at him quickly. I also didn't want to give anyone information about Christine away, for what was he planning, but more importantly, how did he know? I faintly remembered the stories Christine had told me a while ago, how the Angel of Music came to help her when she went through troubled times, and how she said, in time, this Angel would come to me. After years of waiting, I gave up on the idea. I was not a talented enough singer to be visited by him.

"Yes." I answered quietly.

"How much?" he demanded.

I thought back, "Not a lot, but… she often spoke of him… visiting her, I suppose." He simply nodded at my answer, but looked slightly confused. With that, he turned away from me, looking at his desk that was decorated with candles and drawings. I walked away from the chair slowly, trying to make my footsteps loud so he wouldn't suspect me trying to escape, and walked toward the many closed red curtains, and fingered them delicately. I aimlessly wandered through the large room, looking at him every so often, but he never moved, as if he were in a trance. It took me about two minutes to break the overbearing silence, and ask a burning question.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

He snapped out of his trance and looked up at me curiously. I stayed close to the wall, as if it would protect me, as I looked back at him. He took a deep breath in, as if he were preparing a well thought out answer, and started to walk toward me.

"Well first of all, I don't hurt women," he gestured toward me, "and secondly-"

"But you hurt me!" I shouted at him unexpectedly. Even I was astounded at what I had sounded like, for it was if I were replaced by a little, six-year old girl. I quickly regained my sense over the pitch of my voice and continued more formally, "You slashed me across the chest."

It took him a moment to register my statement, but like always, he had a competitive answer. "I didn't know you were a girl, until your _shrilling_ scream, and when I pulled your hat off."

"But couldn't you see my skirts, or something that obviously made me look like a girl?"

"Oh please," he spat, "if I hadn't moved, you wouldn't have even known I was there." I was a little taken back by his answer, now knowing the reason he so suddenly took off my hat. He continued on, "also, before I saw you… I heard a mans- well, more like a boy's voice echoing throughout the cellars."

This made my heart speed up. Was it William looking for me?

He left that as his final answer. I started to walk around more, slowly making my way to his desk as I could literally feel his burning stare straight into my neck and I decided going to his desk may not be the most intelligent thing to do in my situation. I turned toward him.

"Why else didn't you kill me?" I asked, remembering he had said 'secondly'. He then looked on the floor, and started walking slowly around too, as if he were wasting time.

_Maybe he is going to kill me._

"I'd like to have you know," he paused for a moment and looked up at me nervously, "that Christine did something… _despicable." _He shook his head shamefully.

"What?" I said with a panicking tone. I never imagined Christine doing something horrible… wait, what could she have done? "When?"

"While you were unconscious."

The only thing I could think of her doing at the time was her trying to save me. Or trying to kill him…. My mind couldn't bring me to think of Christine with a knife in her hand, trying to kill someone, I just couldn't. But I did come to think that the Phantom had a connection with Christine, how else did he know so much about her?

He continued on, walking and looking at his feet, "I…I broke the trust between us."

I was completely lost. I barley registered anything he told me. _How did Christine know him? Did she know he was the Phantom of the Opera? _And I didn't even want to get into how he knocked me out.

"The… the trust?" I stuttered.

He looked up and said simply, "Yes."

"What did Christine do?" I asked kind of nervously. He wasn't avoiding the matter by accident.

"She…" he lowered his head, and stopped for a few seconds. I eagerly awaited his answer, but it never came. "All you need to know is that I… I need your help… to get it back."

I gave him a questioning look. _The great and powerful Phantom of the Opera needed _my _help? A simple, boring, 17-year old girl? Something's not right._

"I don't understand."

He gave a large sigh, obviously not pleased with the lack of my intelligence. I knew he didn't like asking for help the moment he said it; he was obviously an independent person, and didn't want to ask for it again.

"I need your help to get me Christine's trust back." He stated plainly and loud, making sure I would get it clearly.

No, I didn't want to get Christine involved in anything that had to do with him. I didn't want such a heavy burden on my shoulders either. What would he do if I fail? Kill me, no doubt of that, and maybe even Christine. But if I do manage to get Christine to trust this man again, wouldn't he just kill her anyways? He is a murderer after all. And if I say no, won't he kill me right where I stand? Either way, I could not win. But something was different, the way he wanted Christine's trust; he almost sounded… desperate.

"Why me?" I asked, sounding confused. "Why not ask someone stupid enough to say yes to your request?"

He stood looking at me for a while, obviously stunned at my attitude. It definitely wasn't my smartest move.

"You said yourself that you were close to her," he said, almost shouting now, "and you've seen too much down here already!"

Actually, now that I thought about it, I hadn't really seen anything. It's much to dark to make out details of anything, no matter how close.

He lowered his voice, "and…" but he held back. I waited for him to continue, but he never said.

"Why should I help you? You almost killed me." I said greedily. I half expected him to say I would be leaving here with my life. He took a while to think of an answer, and I could tell he knew it would be hard to convince me.

"Well," he started, "I obviously cannot go up there and get it myself, and… you have the skills and the connections. Also," he paused for a moment and at first, I didn't think he would continue, but he did, "no one will suspect you if you're caught."

"Caught?" I shouted quickly. "Am I supposed to get her trust back, or murder her?"

"So you agree?" he stated happily, ignoring the sarcasm in my last comment. I hadn't even started to consider agreeing, but I let something slip in the previous sentence.

"No!"

"And why not?" he replied sharply.

"Because, how do I know you're not going to hurt her?" I shouted at him. "How do I know you're not going to kill her? I know what you are capable of and I don't want to get Christine involved!"

Suddenly, he started to chuckle. "Protective, are you?" I gave him a deadly glare, but it didn't seem to faze him. After a while, slowly stopped laughing. "I would never hurt Ms. Daaé."

I didn't know if I should believe him or not, for he was a murderer, but he hadn't told a lie yet.

"In fact," he continued, "I'm trying to save her."

"From what?" I questioned quickly.

"From the cruelties of the world." And with that, he turned from me and began pacing.

I thought about his answer for a little while. I knew the world was a cruel place and all, but that bad for someone to come save you? I learned that when something goes wrong in your life, you learn from it. Was Christine secretly suffering? She couldn't be; she seemed happier, actually! I looked down at my feet. _But if she is dying inside, then what could I do? If I help him save Christine, then will she be better? Will she be saved? _I started to consider agreeing to his abstract plan even though I wasn't entirely sure if she was depressed. Also, what would he do to save her?

The more I thought about it, the more sure I was Christine was in pain, for people say the person with the brightest smile is suffering a great internal battle. I didn't want to put Christine in the arms of a murderer, but if she were to be saved, would it be worth it?

"What would I have to do?" I finally said. He stopped pacing and quickly looked up at me. Instead of smiling, his eyes grew brighter, relieved that I had said yes.

"All you have to do is tell me what she does all day and what she feels." I was instantly washed with confusion at his statement.

"How does that help getting her _trust_ back?"

"Well, if I know what she is feeling, I can get her to forgive me, and trust me again" he returned.

"Why do you want to know what she does?" I replied. I knew for a fact that he wanted something else from me too.

He pondered for a little while, for I knew he was trying to slide that fact past without me knowing. But no, I wasn't that stupid.

"Well," he started, "I was actually thinking you may tell me what may be going around the entire opera house, but mostly her."

My head immediately tilted to the side. _He wants me to tell him everything that's going on in the opera house? Like what? Do I have to collect everyone's thoughts? Why do I have to do this?_

He seemed to read every one of my internal questions and see this was going against him, and began thinking of a new proposition.

"You see, I want to get Christine's trust back without anyone knowing." he stated with obviously words. "To do this, I need to know what is going on up there," he gestured towards the ceiling, "so I can make sure I do this without anyone aware of my doings."

I knew what he was saying, even though he was trying to cut around it.

"So, you want protection?"

He stopped moving for moments after I said this; I was right. His breathing ceased to be silent and his entire body stayed still. He was thinking hard, and fast.

"With the new managers," he said slowly as I recalled the two men who were now in charge of the opera, "I will not be able to control my opera like I used to. They will evidently get the police involved, and many will be killed." I noticed the fact that he called it 'his opera' and how he didn't say that he would be killed, but many others. "With your help, I will have the upper hand and get the opera house back under my control." He spoke with passion, as if he were planning to over through an empire.

"Do you want Christine's trust, or was that just a set back?" I asked moments after he stated his plan.

"Yes, of course I do." He said simply.

He continued on. "If you tell me what they are thinking every day, I can stay ahead of them, and get everything back to the way it was… and to the way it should be." I looked down at my feet. How could I know what was going on in this entire opera each and every hour, including what the manager's plan of attack, and their thoughts. All of that, while getting Christine to trust this insane man and collecting her thoughts will be the challenge of my life. And if I fail? Surely, many will fall dead, including me. It would be my entire fault.

_Just say no. It's one simple word._

"What if I fail to do all of this?" I questioned, kind of scared.

"Then you will simply try harder the next day." I was surprised at his answer, and at his tone of voice. He spoke calm and collected, not caring if I put his life in danger. He thought for a moment more, thinking of what he was going to say.

"Also," I thought I saw his lip curled up slightly, as he stopped for a moment. Whatever he was going to say, he obviously didn't want to say it. He breathed inward again and continued on. "Mademoiselle, last night I heard you singing." He stopped and looked away. My eyes grew wide. _Just another thing he knows about me_.

"Your voice," he said with difficulty, facing the lake "has the quality, pitch, and tone… of an angel's." I was completely stunned at his compliment. I didn't believe what he was saying to me right now, I couldn't. When I sang, I sounded like a dying cat! What could have persuaded him to think I had the voice of an angel? Did he not hear Christine the other night? Was he really that insane?

He turned slowly toward me. "But- it is obviously… untrained." _Well that explains it_. He saw my head bow and quickly continued on. "Without training, your voice will never be able to reach its' full potential."

I looked up at him curiously; what was he suggesting?

He took yet another breath inwards. "If you help me do this," recalling the things he wanted from me earlier, "I will be fully… honored if you would let me… teach you." He instantly looked relieved when he finished, as if it was the hardest thing he had ever done.

I breathed slowly, trying to take everything in. He saw me deeply thinking, and as if he were afraid I would say no, he continued.

"Also," I looked up at him, "I… I will protect you." He looked confident, but I knew he was breaking if I didn't say something soon.

"Protection?" I asked.

"Yes." He started to walk around the big room. "I promise not to hurt you in any way, or Christine, and I promise to protect you if you get in any kind of trouble."

I was stunned yet again at his response. Would he really protect me, or was he just saying that? I also took notice that he said he wouldn't hurt Christine, which relieved me a lot.

"If you ever do get in danger of any kind," he added, "just call out my name and I will be there to help you." This made me kind of worried; would he be following me for the rest of my life? I decided to let it go, for there was something more confusing. 'Just call out my name.'

"What's your name?" He stayed silent, as if trying to remember.

"My mother named me Erik," he stated simply.

"Erik." I repeated. It was weird to hear that the incredible opera ghost had a human name.

"Yes" he said and started to walk towards me with caution. I stayed still until Erik was standing toe to toe with me. "Do we have a deal?" he said slowly as he extended his arm out in front of my stomach.

I had to make a decision. If I say yes, the only thing I have to do is tell him what the managers are planning on doing and what Christine is feeling. But what if I am caught? What would they do to me? Christine will see a change in my attitude, by asking her questions about her personal life very single day, and what would she do? So many things that could easily go wrong, but with Erik's help, I may be able to pull it off.

The way he looked at me, eyes full of hope, it seemed wrong to say no. I looked at his outstretched hand, wondering if to take it.

_Nothing could go wrong_ little voice inside me said. _He'd protect you and Christine, and you would never have to worry about anything. _

My hand, as if having a mind of its own, reached toward Erik's, and grabbed a hold of it. I saw a slight incline in the corner of his lips as I shook his hand. I was now not control of myself anyone, I would live in a dark shadow of Erik, never knowing if I will feel the daylight on my face again.

"Very good" he whispered as I collected my hand from his grasp, and he instantly turned away. I hadn't even thought if I was to go back up to the surface.

_Well why wouldn't I? I have to go and know what is going on, don't I? _But panic was still over me as I realized I didn't know how to get back to the surface. I would probably be lost in the cellars forever!

As if he could read my mind, Erik said, "come with me and we'll go back up to _your world_,"and he grabbed my wrist, and pulled me to the boat that awaited use at the shore of the misty lake…

**A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry I haven't posted in a while, I had a hard time writing their conversation. I hoped it turned out well! Please R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or its characters, songs, or plot.**

Chapter 4: The Other Side

I woke up with a jolt the following morning. The last night was very hazy, as if it were a dream. I didn't remember the hike back up to the surface, only that it had been very dark; I didn't even remember getting into my bed in the dormitories of the opera house. But I did remember one slight detail about Erik's departure after we reached the surface, and his words echoed in my mind. _If you tell a single soul_ his voice harsh and demanding _it will be Christine's life._

I guess it didn't matter if I messed up his request, he just didn't want anyone to know. The weird thing was that he said he would take Christine's life, and not mine, but this worried me even more, for it would be the ultimate suffering for me if she was murderer on my part. But wouldn't this be bad for Erik too? Maybe he truly did want to do something horrible to her and he didn't care if she was killed, oh why did I agree? What made me give in?

A sudden shuffle of feet snapped me out of my thoughts as I turned to see Madame Giry ringing out a wet rag over the water basin. Light had flooded in the room before I woke up, meaning it had to be very late morning, and none of the other chorus girls in my dorm were asleep in there beds. There was just me and Madame Giry who noticed I had awoken and turned toward me. Something about her seemed different; she had a glint in her eye, as if she knew something she wasn't supposed to. This could be true because I knew she knew everything that went on around here, and it frightened me, for my first day on this deal and someone already knows.

"Are you feeling alright, dear?" she asked in a calm manner, which made me confused, for just a few days ago, she sent me up to the rafters for the rest of the night. Also, she was never this nice to anyone, especially not me. I didn't answer.

When Madame Giry noted my silence, she continued on. "It's not everyday someone disappears for four days, then shows up with this on her head."

My hand instantly came up to my forehead to feel it bandaged and cool, for Madame Giry must have ran it over with water. I remembered I had scratched my head a few days ago.

_Four days? _I thought. _I was under there for four days?_

If Madame Giry knew something, she defiantly didn't want to share it with me.

"Nobody knew where you were after Christine's performance a few nights ago" she looked at me seriously with concern. "Where did you go?"

I didn't dare to answer. But it didn't matter, she would find out sooner or later, and someone would be dead. I faintly remembered William and how he came down under the opera to search for me. I was just lucky Erik found me instead of him, for he would be dead! I hadn't even thought about Christine! Hopefully, she was safe like Erik promised last night. I had to go find her.

Unfortunately, my stomach growled like a savage dog. "You need to eat." Madame Giry stated to me, but instantly, I protested.

"I'm not hungry" I lied as my voice cracked, for I hadn't used it for a while, while Madame Giry looked at me, confused.

"Of course you are, you haven't eaten in four days!"

"No, I don't want to eat… I need to go see Christine." Surprisingly, she didn't try to stop me as I swung myself out of bed and started toward the door.

"Very well, but I suggest you change before you go out," she shouted as I stopped in my tracks and looked down at the clothes I had been wearing for days.

"Also," I heard her come up behind me as I turned toward her. She held something in her hand. "I was asked to give you this." Madame Giry handed me a folded piece of paper, with an engraved picture of a red skull on the front, sealing the letter. I carefully took it and examined it as Madame Giry walked past me, without another word.

I didn't know why, but my hand shook as I reached to open it; maybe because the seal looked like blood.

I took the folded piece of paper that was placed in the envelope out and saw the childish handwriting- also looking like it was dipped in blood- and I knew exactly whom this was from. Not even looking at what was written, I saw the signature: O.G. I almost dropped the letter unconsciously, but luckily regained my composer and read the note over and over again, making sure I didn't miss a word. It read:

_Not a single soul, or it will be Christine. Know what is going on, and I will find you. –O.G._

My breathing was shaky; I had to find Christine! But no, my legs couldn't move, they wouldn't move. Something held me back for a moment, but luckily my legs found strength, and I ran toward my dressing room, for Madame Giry was right- I looked horrible!

I quickly got changed into a white, baggy dress shirt, with a black corset on top- not too tight for I did care about my health- and a black skirt that went down to my calves. I didn't feel the need for shoes, for once I unconsciously grabbed my sword and the letter, I sprinted out the door, into darkened hallways, and though dusty corridors to Christine's dressing room- why did it have to be so far away?

Everyone looked at me as I ran by, making the wind blow beside him or her, but I didn't care, I had to get to Christine!

_A few more turns and I'll be at Christine's dressing room,_ I thought as I ran through the opera house, almost not in control of myself. The only thought I had was making sure Christine was safe, and putting one foot in front of the other. But as I turned left, I didn't see another person walking in the opposite direction of me, and I bumped right into him, knocking me out of my dull thoughts and onto the ground.

I slowly looked up at him, for I was immediately embarrassed by my clumsy act, as something inside me jumped- I ran into the Persian.

No one knew anything about him, only that he comes and goes from the opera as he pleases, like the opera is his house. He had dark, aged skin, which must had meant he had a long, tiring life, and black eyes that seemed to stare into your soul. He never spoke, he never had expression; something was obviously tore from his life, who knows how many years ago! I had never encountered him until now.

"Oh, sorry." I said apologetically as he looked at me suspiciously. I didn't know what he was looking at, for his eyes were hard, and set on something.

A loud shout came from behind him as he suddenly seemed startled and walked right passed me, not giving me another thought. My eyes came down to the angle that his eyes were set on to find myself looking at the letter Erik sent me. _That's why. _I got up from the dusty ground and turned to look at him stride away quickly as the shouts got louder until they were right behind the corner and I made out a few words: "you know something, don't you?"

A man, about 20 judging by his strength, turned the corner and evidently ran into my back, almost knocking me down again. I heard him mutter sorry before jogging in the direction of the Persian. I looked at him for a while after, wondering why he wanted to see the Persian so badly, and why the Persian didn't want to talk to him.

_What was I doing? Christine!_

I remembered what I was doing, turned the corner and ran the rest of the way to the door of Christine's dressing room, knocked on it twice, and opened the door, not waiting for an answer. Christine sat by her desk, fixing her hair, with a startled expression of my sudden entrance. But her expression turned quickly to a large, dazzling smile.

"Lizzie!" she exclaimed as she got up from her sitting position and bounded over to me like a small child, then enwrapped me in a bear hug. I evidently hugged her back as I heard her say, "I was so worried about you!" This made me laugh internally, for she had been abducted by the Phantom of the Opera and didn't seem to remember. I was just happy that she was safe.

"I saw you close the curtains to the performance, but after that, I never saw you until now!" she complained as I let go of her. Her clothes defiantly made her look like a prima donna, dressed in almost all pink with ruffles decorated everywhere, and her hair hung loosely over her shoulders.

"Oh, what happened to you? I was so scared!" she asked worriedly. I had the same expression plastered on my face as she waited for me to answer. I thought quickly.

"I don't remember." I lied.

"You got _knocked out_?" she asked with emphasis, like a small girl. I shrugged my shoulders, trying to act as if I didn't remember, but she didn't stop there. "What's the scratch on your head?" I didn't answer. "Well didn't you see?" she asked loudly as she dragged my toward the small mirror where she put on her makeup, and pointed to my reflection.

I gasped as I saw the 'scratch' on my head- for it wasn't a scratch! No, it was much bigger! And what was on it? Stitches! That stone must have almost split my skin in two and now, it would be a scar! The bandage must have fallen off when I was getting dressed.

"Do you remember now?" Christine asked me, desperately wanting me to answer. But I couldn't, it would get her killed- he was very clear.

"No." I lied again. She didn't seem satisfied, but she thankfully let it go. I didn't like lying to Christine.

"Well if you're not going to tell me anything, then I want to tell you something." I looked at her as she slightly smiled. "But you have to promise that you won't tell anyone!"

I reluctantly nodded my head, trying to prepare what she was going to say. But I wasn't prepared enough.

"Well," she began, "after my performance, I came here and, well you remember Raoul?" I nodded swiftly. She smiled even brighter, "well he saw me sing, and he remembered me! He came by my dressing room, gave me flowers and invited me to dinner that night!"

"That's great, Christine!"

"Oh, but that's not all!" This scared me, for I think I knew what she was going to say next. "Instead of going with him to dinner, I was visited… by the Angel of Music!"

"What?" I exclaimed, utterly feeling defeated for some reason. I expected her to say she was kidnapped! The Angel of Music? She thought Erik was the Angel of Music? What kind of spell did he put on her? I faintly remembered his voice… the hypnotizing, beautiful voice. It was the only answer.

"But Lizzie!" she said over my confusion, "he's not an angel, no! He's… he's a man! Nothing more! My guardian and tutor was a man- not a voice! Oh, but his voice, his voice is an angel's! But he is not an angel, you see, no, I am actually quite scared of him!" her eyes darkened and her voice became a whisper as she said all this.

"Your tutor?" I asked in a small hushed tone.

"Yes, my music teacher, the man that taught me to sing! But that's not the point, Lizzie! You see, he took me far down under this very opera, so far! Do you know how far the opera goes down?"

_Yes._

She continued on when I stayed silent. "At least ten stories down! It was so dark, Lizzie, but it wasn't that terrifying until he took me into his lair, the man, he showed me something, oh, something terrible!"

"What was it?" I asked, daring her to go on.

"It was…" she was having trouble putting her thoughts into words. "He showed me… me!"

Confusion washed over me and I stayed still, thinking if I moved my thoughts would have changed. Was it a mirror of some sort? Maybe under all the red curtains in his lair were special mirrors. It was not a good prediction, but the only explanation at the moment.

"It was a life-sized doll, Lizzie! It looked so much like me; every detail was exact!" Christine exclaimed, scared for her life while I registered what she said.

I tried to imagine this, but I couldn't; this was all very weird. How did he know every detail about Christine? What had I gotten myself into?

"The doll was dressed in a white gown, it was very beautiful! But what was startling was that the doll was wearing a veil- a wedding veil! And the dress, oh Lizzie, it was a wedding dress! Don't you get it? He wants to marry me! Oh, I fainted on the spot!" she seemed out of breath after saying all this, but I wasn't even speaking and I was too. This is why she was knocked out when I saw her on the bed, and this is why he wouldn't answer my question on how she fainted. Dear God, this is why he wants her trust back! And I was trapped going to get it, for if I don't, she will be killed, and when she does trust him, he will marry her! Oh, my dear Christine, what have I done?

"But that's not all, Lizzie!" I couldn't believe her words as I continued to look at the ground as she continued with her story. "When I woke, he was fiercely playing on his organ, and, oh Lizzie! I took off his mask! It was a huge mistake that almost cost me my life, for he threw me on the ground, totally enwrapped in his temper, oh what a horrible temper! It didn't seem that he wanted to marry me as he screamed at me with the top of his lungs!"

My heart beat fast as she said this, as if it were happening to me right now. This is what she had done wrong, it all made sense now. She was deathly scared of him for his temper! But where had he put me that Christine couldn't see me? The only room I saw was the room that Christine passed out in, and the large one with the lake.

She continued on. "But Lizzie, you don't know what he looked like! You don't know why he covers his face. His face… was deformed! So deformed that it didn't even look like a face at all! It was twisted and horrid! I was so scared for I was in the same room as a monster! This is why he covers it with a mask!" her voice hadn't gotten any louder from when she first started, which was a good thing. If Erik knew about her fear…

I made a mental note to myself never to touch his mask, for many demons in hell would be released.

"Don't you realize, Lizzie? The white mask, the deformed face, the way he knows everything about the opera? He's real, Lizzie! The Phantom of the Opera is real! Oh Lizzie, and he loves me!"

She was about to continue when we heard voices outside of the dressing room, and suddenly, the door bursted open, with Christine's childhood friend, Raoul, and the mysterious Persian, which was startling for some reason.

_He must have gotten to him after all._

Raoul was talking in a serious tone to the Persian, and he was almost shouting, while the Persian was listening intently without much interest. As soon as Raoul looked up and saw me there, he stopped speaking-even though I couldn't catch any of his passionate words.

"Oh my, I'm sorry." Raoul said apologetically, as he looked shocked I was there. He stepped toward me as Christine and I got up from our seated position, and outstretched his hand toward my arm. "Viscount Raoul de Changy, but you may call me Raoul." I reluctantly took his hand and introduced myself as Christine's friend.

"This is Nadir Khan," Raoul said, gesturing toward the Persian and took a step back. "He should help us with this _little problem_." He looked straight at Christine when he said this, and I was instantly confused. It seemed to me that the Persian didn't want to help with the 'little problem' at all, for when I ran into him earlier he practically ran away from Raoul, and right now, he looked very uncomfortable.

The silence was overbearing in the room, and until the question was practically picking me apart. "What's the problem that you're having?"

Raoul looked annoyed at Christine for some reason then held up a sealed envelope, exactly like mine. "This is what was going on all of yesterday and the day before." He said as he shook the letter. "We think someone is messing with the entire opera house."

"I told you Raoul, he's real! Now why won't you believe me?" Christine stressed._ Did she seriously tell him?_

"Because, Christine, we have larger things to worry about than just some silly stories to frighten children!" he slammed the note onto the ground. "And you will help me figure this thing out!" he pointed toward the Persian. "We need the police here, now!"

I saw the Persian in an interesting state at that moment, for his gazed was fixated on something beyond Christine and I, something behind us.

I looked behind me for a moment to see me staring at myself- the reflection in Christine's gigantic mirror. Why was he so interested in the mirror? I looked back at Raoul as something in the back of my head flashed before my eyes at that moment: it was back when I was underneath the opera in Erik's lair. "_So you want protection?"_ I remembered that I was right about that. I couldn't let the police go down under and raid Erik's lair. But I wasn't scared for Erik, I was scared for the many lives that would be lost if they went down there. So many lives.

"The police won't help you." I said sheepishly toward Raoul as all eyes were directly on me now.

"Why not?" he questioned, obviously annoyed by a simple chorus girl. "The police will find this criminal and we will be done with it. Didn't you hear? Christine was kidnapped a few days back!"

"Because…" oh I didn't want to give him any information at all, but it might be for the best. "Because you will never find him. He knows the opera too well for you to catch him. Too many lives will be lost. Just let it go!"

Raoul was now the one that was lost, for he didn't know who 'he' was. "What do you mean, let it go?" he questioned loudly. "Who's 'he'?"

"Never mind that," the Persian said unexpectedly. He came up behind Raoul and put a hand on his shoulder. "She is right Viscount, you should just let it go before anyone gets hurt."

Raoul rudely jerked away from the Persian's grip and shouted back at him, "You were not a victim in this game! Christine could have been killed! These notes were threats, you see! Here, I'll read mine!" he picked his note off the ground, tore the letter from the envelope and furiously read what was on it. "'Do not fear for Miss Daaé; the angel of music has her under his wing. Make _no_ attempt to see her again.' This is not some fairytale! This is a threat to Christine and to the Opera itself!"

"You were not the only victim!" I shouted passionately, surprisingly confidant. If I had to act to keep this secret, then fine! But Christine will not be hurt.

"Watch your mouth, girl! I don't have time to argue with someone like _you!"_ he said hushed, but dangerously.

"My name is not 'girl', it's Lizzie." I stated simply, with a little bit of attitude. My hand, having a mind of its own, lifted up the card that was given to me by Erik, but it was a mistake. If he read what was on it, I would be arrested, no doubt.

Raoul looked shocked as he saw the envelope in my hand, and tried to snatch it from me, but I instantly jerked my hand away.

"How did you get one? What does it say?" Raoul shouted, knowing he wouldn't get it from me, no matter how hard he tried.

"Nothing of your concern!"

"Oh Raoul, you're so stubborn! Why won't you just admit that the Phantom of the Opera is real!" Christine shouted, thankfully cutting me off. Raoul's attention went back to Christine.

"There is no Phantom of the Opera, Christine! Someone is messing with your head! And I need to figure it out." He started to walk out of the dressing room, determined.

"You get the police involved in this madness and I swear…" the Persian shouted after him. This made the Viscount stop in his tracks.

"Or what?" he challenged.

The Persian took a deep breath in. "Or we will all be dead by morning." This seemed to utterly defeat him, for he took a long breath and walked back into the dressing room. He looked sympathetically at Christine for a moment.

"Well, we can't have someone running around here kidnapping people." He said in a serious tone. Raoul's gaze went from Christine to mine in a matter of long seconds, but he looked at me strangely.

"What's that?" he asked me, as I looked back at him, confused. "On your head" he clarified.

My hand instantly came up to my forehead, and felt the bump that had been left there. "Oh, I…" I looked at Christine, remembering my lie. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember? Surely you must." Raoul coaxed, determined to get a complete answer from my part for once. He had a point, but I didn't want to tell him I got it under the opera in a swordfight. That would make me look very bad- and delusional!

"I scratched it on some stone a couple days ago." I answered truthfully after a few moments of silence.

"Lizzie," Christine pestered "I thought you didn't remember. Oh Lizzie, why do you lie to me?"

"I just… I didn't want you to worry." I came over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at me as if I betrayed her, but it was one simple lie. If she knew everything that was going on, she would die of heartbreak. I looked at her sympathetically and she seemed to forgive me.

"A stone?" the Viscount questioned. "It looks like a sword injury! A simple rock could not cut your forehead so deep." He walked up to me and lightly brushed the stitches, while I noticed a change in his attitude. "Are you skilled with a sword, Lizzie?" he asked, eyeing my sword that had been placed on the ground.

I was about to say no, for I didn't want to go into detail and tell him about my incident with Erik. The one time I wasn't lying, everyone thought I was. Unfortunately for me, Christine butted into our conversation.

"Oh yes! She has been with that knowledge since she came here. She always protects me!" Christine informed Raoul. I closed my eyes tight; she blew it.

"Really?" Raoul questioned. "Well if the police can't help us," he looked at me confidently, "then why don't you?"

I stood very still, not moving a muscle. _What did he just say?_

"I mean, if you don't then the only other option is the police" he continued, "and I know you don't want that."

Christine turned toward me. "Oh Lizzie, this is a perfect idea!" she squealed like a child. "Who's better with the sword than you? Now you have reasons to hurt those mean other girls!" She giggled at her comment, but I was too much in a state of shock to laugh, or even smile at Christine.

"N-no" I stuttered clumsily "I can't."

"Why not?" Raoul asked rudely.

"It's" I glanced at the Persian who was now looking at me with concern. "It's not physically possible!"

"You're not hunting for the _Phantom of the Opera_, Lizzie!" he glared at Christine for brainwashing me, than looked back at me. "You're looking for someone who did this to us! A real human being; not a legend!" He held up his letter with the blood-red writing on it. I held my breath, knowing he was wrong. "I'll even help you find this criminal, just please…" he looked at me sympathetically, "please make sure she doesn't get kidnapped, again. I couldn't live with myself if she would be killed."

_I couldn't either! _If I agreed, she would be killed on the Erik's part. He would know I was helping Christine away from his grasp, and destroy everything. If I did not, I would earn myself lots of bad comments from Raoul, knowing I wasn't a good friend for not helping her, and a deathly scared Christine for a few months, than a deathly scared married Christine!

I looked at Christine after Raoul said this, but it was a mistake. _He's real!_ She mouthed to me, not wanting Raoul to change her wording this time. _Please!_ I looked at her with utter defeat, not knowing what to do. "I'm so scared" she pleaded in a hushed tone, making sure I was the only one to hear.

Dear God in Heaven! I couldn't say no to that!

"What's making you say no, Lizzie?" Raoul questioned.

I looked down at my feet and scarcely breathed. I was so scared for Christine, for either way things will go wrong. Finally, I made up my mind. "Nothing… nothing at all."

"So you'll do it?" I looked up at Raoul, eyes full of youthful hope. I nodded slowly.

"Yes." I answered in a whisper.

Raoul took my hand and shook it fiercely, not caring if it hurt my arm. He thanked me a bunch of times, and I could hear Christine sigh in relief, then she came up behind me and gave me a hug.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." Raoul said happily.

I faked a smile to act as if I were ok with this whole thing and tried to get out of the room as soon as possible, casually. I saw the Persian for a moment before I left, and his expression would have been the same as mine if I were not acting. He looked at me sad pity as I walked out of the room, strolled down the hallway, and right after I turned the corner, I took off. Thankfully, no one tried to stop me.

I was so lost, oh how was I going to pull this off? Lie to everyone until I die? Surly Erik will figure it out in time, only if he doesn't know already. He could have been listening easily through the walls; I hadn't even thought about that!

I made my way back to my dressing room, slammed the door, and buried my head in my hands. My hair curtained my face as I angled my head down toward the ground. I had no idea what I was going to do, and this only happened one other time in my life. The other time it happened when I found out my mother had left me; I felt so utterly lost! No one to look up to. Nothing to look forward to. Complete despair.

I sank down to the middle of the floor, with my face still hidden, until the sword that I had unconsciously strapped back onto my belt sat in an awkward position, and I had to take it off. My breathing was shaky when I got up from the ground and propped my sword up so the tip was stabbing the beige carpet.

Suddenly, a soft gust of wind brushed my cheek, and blew out the lone candle in my room, which purpose was to give off a flowery scent. I looked toward the little candle with confusion; not knowing where the wind had came from, for none of my windows where open. Even though it was the middle of the day, and light flooded in from the window, I felt scared.

"Elizabeth" a soft voice blew through the air, and pierced my skin. I immediately turned to see nothing. No one was in the room. Everything was just as it was, the door shut, the propped up sword, but the atmosphere felt different.

I rushed to my door and was about to open it, wondering if someone called my name from outside, but I remembered only one person in the world called me Elizabeth. _I will find you._

"Erik?" I called out shyly, like a frightened child. No one answered. I took in a deep breath, and tried to regain my composer.

_It was just your imagination _I assured myself. _I must be going crazy under all the stress._

As I started to believe this theory, I was instantly proven wrong.

"Elizabeth Hart." The voice called quietly, but in a harsher tone. This made me jump in surprise. It sounded so distant, like someone was calling my name from across a crowed room.

I looked around; he was obviously here somewhere. It defiantly wasn't my imagination.

"Erik," I said worriedly, but stern "where are you?"

It was quiet for a few moments, but then he spoke. "Listen my child, do not be afraid. Come follow me." He spoke in a very coaxing and calm manner, which made me relax a little. But there was a bigger problem.

"Where are you?" I asked again, this time a little louder. I walked away from the door, for I didn't notice that I had my back against it the entire time, and looked every which way.

"Look in the mirror, Elizabeth." I stopped in my tracks and slowly looked up toward the giant, floor to ceiling mirror. It had silver outlining with designs engraved on every inch. Every dressing room had a big mirror, but all of them where designed differently.

At first, I just saw my scared expression, looking back at me, but as I turned my body toward it, I saw his piercing white mask. I stared in horror and awe as more of his body appeared in the mirror, first every white piece of clothing that he was wore, which was not a lot, showed up, then I started to see the outline of his face and clothes.

Was this why the Persian looked at the mirror in Christine's dressing room earlier so suspiciously? How did he know?

I unknowingly took a step back, and after a few more moments, his whole entire being was there. He outstretched one arm toward me. "Come to me" he coaxed as I looked at him with uncertainty.

"Th-through the- the mirror?" I stuttered, obviously confused on how I was going to get through.

"Yes" he said simply. I stood where I was. "It won't hurt, Elizabeth. I promise. Just come toward me."

I had no idea how this was going to work, but what I should be questioning right now is how he is even here right now. I thought behind my mirror was solid concrete.

I slowly walked up toward the mirror, hesitated for a moment, and reached toward his outstretched hand. I was sure my hand would hit glass, so I went slowly, but as if the glass had been taken out, he grabbed my hand, and started pulling me toward the mirror.

I looked at my reflection for a moment, closed my eyes, preparing to hit glass, but as I opened them, I saw Erik with my hand in his and a dark hallway, with dim candles lighting the wall on either side.

"Watch your step," he said abruptly. I looked down at my feet to see they were still on the carpet of my dressing room, and I stepped over the silver framing of the mirror.

I was in utter shock when I was fully in the darkened hallway.

"How did you do that?" I questioned loudly.

He let out a quiet laugh. "You'll learn in time." Erik turned from me, and started leading me down the hallway. I instantly followed as I looked back at my dressing room, for it looked like a window, but on the other side it looked like a mirror. Confusion was still nipping at my heels, but I decided to try and let it go.

**A/N: Haven't updated in a while, sorry! But I hope the 'longness' of this chapter made up for it! Please R&R!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or its characters, songs and plot. I also don't own the song "Weep You No More Sad Fountains" from Sense and Sensibility. **

Chapter 5: Two-Week Intermission

"Breathe with your diaphragm and let your voice flow out naturally- do not force it out or it could damage your voice" Erik reminded me as I sang a score from the opera that had been performed years ago. He was seated in front of his grand piano that was placed in the center of the large, underground room. I didn't know how beautiful it was until I got close up to it, for the last time I saw it, I was a captive.

I stood as straight as I could next to the instrument, making sure I was perfectly aligned, so it would be easier to breathe and let the notes go, but Erik also told me to relax, for it wouldn't be easy to sing, tense, at all. My hands held the old score delicately, as if it would dissolve if I put too much pressure on it, as I vocalized the words.

"_View not your weeping_

_That now lies sleeping_

_Softly, softly, now softly_

_Softly lies sleeping" _

Eleven days went by from our first meeting and my voice already improved immensely. I wasn't ready for the role of the Prima Donna- I didn't know if I ever would be- but at least I gained the confidence for singing the chorus louder at rehearsal.

I managed to slip the fact that I was "protecting" Christine from Erik, which I was very thankful for. I didn't have to do anything serious with her yet, I just had to stick to her when I was up there, and listen to Raoul's constant problems with the Persian and other people; they never seemed to fade away. Christine told me a lot of her father's stories those last days, especially about the Angel of Music, as if they'd protect her from anything that seemed too threatening. I must have missed something while underground a few days ago because Raoul and Christine had become very close in a matter of days. I watched the recovered relationship growing between Raoul and Christine, and it scared me a little.

I had been wandering around the opera in search for the manager's plans for the last week, trying to learn what I could to report back to Erik. The only solution they could come up with was the police, but a few letters was not enough evidence to carry the case on. They were even desperate enough to test if the red ink was blood. Of course, it wasn't (but I couldn't blame them for the fact that I thought that too.) Erik even managed to show me a few secret passageways I never noticed through the opera in search of information, but I never wanted to use them. I didn't want to get lost.

The past week was the most relaxing I'd had in a while, even with all the stress of keeping the secrets from both sides. I needed to be relaxed, because the main threat was on my side- and protecting me at that! The day would go on listening to Christine's stories, going to rehearsal, and hearing Raoul's insane ideas to look for his "man." He obviously hadn't let it go like I advised him too.

At night, I would sneak out of the dormitories and go to my dressing room, finding Erik there waiting for me in the mirror, or just inside the first hallway. I would tell him any new information of the opera house as he led me down to his room with the piano- that I called the Grand Room. Every time I went down there, I looked out for the clone doll of Christine, but I could never find it, or it just wasn't in that room, though I didn't see any more rooms.

After the trip down, we would have our minimum 45-minute music lesson. Some lessons went so long that he let me fall asleep in the swan bed, which I didn't find very ideal for the fact that he was a murderer, but I was so tired I cold barely stand and I fell asleep to the sound of his mad composing.

Sometimes, I even forgot he was a murderer, for he never showed me any harm… he barely even touched me! I knew I should've been more cautious, but somehow, I trusted him. He didn't seem like this 'ghost' that everyone came to know him as. Yes, he was very strict on his instructions, but I figured it was so I wouldn't mess up and waste time.

This whole deal was more than I ever expected. I learned so many things about the opera, like which play would be featured next, to which prop would be placed left stage. I figured out in time that Erik ran the entire opera- to the smallest role and design of backdrops. But sadly, all his instructions were only followed by the previous manager, making my job harder. Erik had introduced me to secretly delivering letters and notes to the two stubborn men that thought they owned the opera. I would walk past them nonchalantly while they were treading around the opera, and while they were distracted in conversation, I would slip the note into their coat pocket without them even feeling it. Soon after, I'd see their reaction to the 'mysterious notes' and quietly stride away.

The only thing that still puzzled my a lot was my mirror, and he never came around to explain it.

"_Doth not the sun rise smiling_

_When fair at e'en he sets_

_Rest you then_

_Rest sad eyes"_

My voice rang out through the Grand Room, reflecting off the misty lake and going off into the passageways beyond it. I remembered taking a glance at the grandmother clock before taking Erik's hand because I hadn't found a clock down here yet. It had said it was only 10:00 P.M. so I must be about 11:45, which was not late at all for these lessons.

"_Melt not in weeping_

_While she lies sleeping,_

_Softly, softly, now softly_

_Softly lies sleeping…"_

I held the last note for a little longer than I intended, but it was drowned out by the sound of the hypnotic melody provided by the piano, which eventually slowed to a stop, leaving the room deathly silent.

Erik quietly closed the sheet music he referred too, got up from the piano bench, and fixed his dress coat that he forgot to take off when we arrived. "I think we are done for the night," he said quietly, taking my lyric sheet and placing both the scores on his desk a few yards away. He never complimented me on my improved voice, but I think it's because there's nothing to compliment on. It's nothing special, just a voice in training. The only time he ever did was when I first met him, but that seemed like many years ago.

I suddenly felt the need to take a breath in and realized a yawn was coming up my throat and into my mouth. I tried to push it away, but in vain. Erik turned toward the sound of my altered breathing and gave me an expressionless grin.

"Tired already, Elizabeth?"

"Not sure why" I replied softly.

"Well, perhaps I should bring you back to the surface." He motioned toward the boat that lay on the waters edge. "Unless you want to stay here for the night."

I slowly shook my head and walked toward the boat, then an idea jumped into my head. "Do you think I should go by myself?"

He looked at me, obviously surprised. I knew I was now deathly afraid of those changing passageways, but it was because I thought I would be lost forever, or running into Erik again, or finding Christine dead somewhere. Now, if I get lost, I'll call out to Erik, remembering he said he would help me if I got into trouble, and I now know that Christine is back upstairs, sleeping soundly in her bed. I had nothing to fear. Also, I would need to learn sometime, and why not do it while it's not too late.

"Would you be able to find your way?" he asked with concern in his voice.

"I think I could. You've led me through them enough."

He didn't seem fully convinced, but after a few moments he decided to let me.

"Well, I'll at least take you to the waters edge."

I mentally agreed as I climbed into the boat while Erik grabbed the pole to steer us through the water. He stood behind me as the portcullis opened and started toward the open water. I mentally tried to remember the turns we took the last night up to the surface until I thought I got them all down. I sure would have been easier if it were light.

As we neared the other side of the lake, I ran over the directions one last time, making sure I didn't miss a turn, until we stopped at the shore. Erik helped me as well as he could not getting out of the boat to get me into the lighted hallway I had seen so many times.

"If you get lost, stay in one place and call for me. I should be there in no more than five minutes," Erik told me as I looked down the hallway. I nodded back to him and started up the passage while hearing the boat floating back across the water.

It seemed my directions were right. Every turn I took seemed familiar, which made me relax immensely. I hugged my shoulders when a cold light breeze swept across my skin which came every once in a while, reminding me every time to bring a shawl or something to cover my shoulders because my basic skirts and housedresses weren't doing it.

I had made my way up into the second cellar without any problems, but just when I let my guard down, an unfamiliar sound came not to far away from were I was. I immediately stopped in my tracks, listening for another noise, and after a few moments, it did.

Was it footsteps? No, it sounded like something different… lots of footsteps. But they weren't loud, it sounded like a million little pins hitting the floor over and over again- rats! I guess Erik wasn't the only sign of life down here.

I instantly started walking, then soon ran in the opposite direction, completely forgetting my directions. The herd of little rodents grew closer by their sounds of squeaks echoing off the walls. I saw a dim light reflecting off the walls, and then suddenly, like a flash of lightening, the light flooded in the hallway I was walking in. I swiftly turned the corner to escape the light. My heart was beating fast now. Who was that with the light? Why are all the rodents chasing him?

The footsteps, squeaks and the light were coming closer to the adjacent hallway I was in, and I pushed my back against the wall, hoping this entire herd would walk by without noticing me- leaving me be. I closed my eyes, knowing they would adjust to the light and then I wouldn't be able to see anything, but mostly out of pure fear.

_I should of let Erik lead me up. He'd know what to do._

The rats noises became deafly loud, and the light got so bright; it could have blinded me if I hadn't kept my eyes closed, but then it suddenly, as fast as it came, the it all disappeared and the hallways became dark again.

I opened my eyes slowly, to see no signs of life but myself. And after a few minutes, my racing heartbeat came back to normal and I looked back down both sides of the hallway. Nothing.

So many questions flew through my mind that I didn't even time to consider the answers to some of them. But I had a bigger problem. I was lost.

I didn't dare call for Erik just yet, for whomever or whatever was down here could still maybe hear me, and I wasn't going to give up yet. Slowly walking the direction I thought I came, I touched the cold stonewall for reassurance.

It was a hard and patience time indeed, but I somehow managed to find my way back to the right path and back up to the surface without Erik's help, and without any more problems.

When I found my way into the dormitories, I could hardly remember lying down, only that I was asleep the moment I hit my pillow.

* * *

**Nadir Khan**

The red flames of the torch burned bright and hot against the wooden handle. I steadily led myself down to the lair of Erik's domain in search for answers.

He used to welcome my presence until that native and youthful voice became his only companion. Christine.

He believed I did not know what his intended purpose for Christine was- that young, innocent girl. True love had gripped at his heart for the first time in years- maybe his whole life- and her sweet soul and beautiful voice was probably to blame. At first, I didn't know what would happen to her. Even now, I couldn't help but worry for her well-being. I never heard of Erik hurting a woman, but I obviously didn't know Erik like I once thought I did. Maybe she would change his cold-hearted soul for the good, but now, he seemed even more irritated with my presence and hadn't shown change to blackmailing the managers and murdering countless people.

But she wasn't the reason I risked my life traveling on a risky trail down to the little house on the lake. Christine was just a minor problem, now that she had protection from Erik- or so she thought. Her mysterious protector- Lizzie, I believed everyone called her- had held one of Erik's notes a few days ago- not something a young girl would get everyday. I didn't know what the note said, but just looking at that horrid letter in such a small hand made my heart race. But what I did know was that Erik was up to something big, for he would never bother a child.

So I came for answers.

Reaching his house was half the work- avoiding traps and making sure you were going the right way- but the real trouble would be convincing Erik to come out of his shell and making some sense.

I walked down the dangerous trail and safely made my way to the shore of the lake. Thinking for a moment, I looked at the black water, mist flowing over the edge ominously and remembered the time I myself had fallen into the deep water, facing a death that so many others faced. Luckily, Erik heard the alarm the water's disturbance had set off and saved my life- only a small return of the favor he owed me. Years back, Erik was arrested and surely faced execution; until I let him go and made myself take the blame to the Shah of Persia himself. I spent many years in jail after that, but it all seemed a blur.

The waking of water snapped me out of the memory that changed my life, and I saw a dim lantern, floating across the water. Then, Erik's tall figure and the black boat appeared, coming toward the shore.

"I thought I heard someone out here," Erik said with a stern tone. "What brings you down here, Daroga?"

_Daroga. _The name I've been called too many times from the same mouth.

"I came to speak with you," I said in the same tone of voice Erik was using. The boat now came to a stop at the edge of the shore and Erik put the pole he used to steer himself on the boat, and hopped off onto the land I stood on.

"If you came down here to lecture me then I think you came at the wrong time. As you can see I am very busy."

I was confused- he didn't look busy at all, maybe he was going somewhere? I decided to shake it away. "I must talk to you about your… attributes to the opera house. What have you done to help get it back under control?" I didn't mean _his_ control, but it sounded like it did, which I regretted. What I learned with Erik is that you will get answers faster if you try and work around the point. He stood next to me by the water, thinking of an answer.

"What do you mean? Do you think I am not trying to get the opera house back under my control?" he asked casually. He obviously already knew my plan ahead of time.

"No," I replied while thinking of another question. Come to think if it, I hadn't planned this conversation like I should have for such a serious matter. "I'm very aware of the notes you've been sending out to the managers frequently- it's actually quite annoying because it always comes back to me-"

"Well then you just answered your own question, did you not?"

I stayed silent, trying to think of something, but Erik already broke me. With a conversation like this, he would usually make one slip early.

"What is it that you really want to ask me, Daroga?" he asked, loudly enough for his harsh voice to echo throughout the walls.

"Who is helping you do all this? I know you cannot do it by yourself." I questioned, still trying to cut around the subject.

"Is that the point you want to make?" he challenged, knowing I was still trying to save myself. But just like he wanted, I cracked.

"Lizzie Hart," I shouted at him, "what business do you have with her?" He froze the moment I said the girl's name. I suppose Erik wasn't prepared for that. He took a few long breaths in and hesitated to answer. I continued on in a more hushed tone. "Her disappearing underground for four days, then coming up, dazed and confused with the need for stitches on her head does not make you look innocent."

Surprisingly, he started to chuckle to himself. After a few moments of his stale laughter, it hit me. "She remembers?"

His laughter quickly ceased, and he spoke again. "What can I say? The girl's an actor." Now, it all came together. The reason she was so protective of him made sense.

"You seriously kidnapped this… this _child_ and brainwashed her into helping you get control of the opera, while you put the hundreds of crimes you committed on her shoulders?"

"I did not kidnap her nor brainwash her, Daroga. I _found_ her lurking in my domain under the opera. The girl deserves to pay." I sensed a change in his voice.

"That's not why you decided on her, is it?" I asked, hushed. Then I threw another question at him. "You know your fate rests in her hands. She could tell the police about this and your life would be over."

"Wrong," Erik protested. I didn't know what he could possibly be talking about. He continued on. "One false move of betrayal on her part and she could kiss her life goodbye."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You'll kill her?"

"Wrong again, Daroga." He started walking slowly back and forth in the lighted hallway we were in. "Her life, I learned, was ripped away from her at an early age and now she lives off the life and youth of Christine." It was the first time I heard him call Christine by her first name, for he was usually formal and careful. But he quietly added in, "just like me."

I didn't feel pity for him but I still remained silent for him to continue. "If Elizabeth tries to betray her word, then it is Christine's life that must be removed. It will show her the peaks of suffering." With that he stopped. I knew if he did such a thing, Lizzie would not be the only one suffering.

"Is that it?" I asked quietly, breaking the deathly silence between us. "Is that all you ordered from this girl?" I persisted him to continue. He looked at me curiously for a moment then continued on.

"Ah, Daroga, always wanting to define the answer closer." He shook his head, as if displeased with me. "You should count yourself fortunate I have given you an abundance of information, and now you're wanting more?" I gave him a cold hard stare, which seemed to convince him to continue.

"I asked her to do something very precious to me…" he stopped for a moment, letting suspense overflow my mind. "Getting the management to me was something I added in last minute." He started pacing again, slower than before; obvious he didn't know what to say and was still trying to plan it out in his head. Suddenly, his head perked up and said in a nicer tone, "Do you know of my relationship with Mademoiselle Daaé?"

"I know that you play the role of The Angel of Music while she goes on believing she is Little Lotte" I said simply, showing him what I knew. By the reaction on his face, raised eyebrows, he was surprised.

"A little more than I expected," he said, a little confused, "but do you know how much of my heart she claims?"

I paused for a moment before answering for no reason. I knew. "All of it."

"Precisely." He didn't seem surprised that I knew this time. "Many days ago, after her great triumph onstage, it seems she's attracted someone from her past." He stopped and looked at me. "Do you know who this is?" it didn't seem like he was seriously asking me this question- Erik already knew. I stayed silent before he resumed. "He thought he could come in and steal Christine from me- and overpower her accomplishment with his wealth! Stealing the triumph that is rightfully mine! -" He stopped and composed himself. "Well I had no other choice be to take her down here."

"Down _here?"_ I asked loudly. "You brought that sweet soul down to this dungeon?" I knew I should have been more careful with my words, but they came out freely, possessed by blind rage. However, Erik didn't seem to notice.

"Yes, and, oh Daroga! It was wonderful! I was finally at a state of happiness!" suddenly, his voice got darker. "But God is unforgiving when he lets reality step in. "it is not all her fault, it is mostly mine." I listened intently for I didn't know what he was talking about. "My temper is just as bad as the devil's soul, you see. Oh, I must have scared her for life!"

I asked him what had happened to make her that scared and is temper so bad, but once he lifted his hand to touch the white mask that shielded reality from him, I instantly knew what she did- I couldn't believe he didn't kill her!

"And this is where help from Elizabeth is needed, Daroga. I asked her to get Christine to trust me again, for she seems the perfect fit…" Erik talked on, but it was blocked out by the sound of my own confusion. Didn't that girl just say a day back that she would protect Christine from Erik? Wasn't that what she promised the Viscount? That was why she was so unsure, but how did she ever consider pulling it off? Promising two things that counteract each other completely? I remembered the consequences from either sides- getting Christine killed, or getting arrested by the Viscount, no doubt.

But in a moment of blind confusion, I instantly blew her cover, cutting Erik off in the middle of his sentence, "well how is she to do that?"

Erik, looking confused at my sudden question, responded, "Well, I gave her specific guidelines. If you're so confused, ask her."

I knew he didn't mean it, but unfortunately for Lizzie, I continued. "She gave her word to the Viscount to protect Christine _from_ you, Erik. How is she to do both?"

And like an invisible bomb, Erik's eyes instantly screamed out anger, keeping the rest of his body under control. "Excuse me?" he said, not wanting to believe a word that came out of my mouth.

"Yes! They shook hands, the deal is done!" I said, not wanting to repeat myself completely, for I knew Erik heard me, and if I said it again, Christine may not be the only one getting killed.

He stood in front of me, silent and composed, though on the inside was much different. I knew he didn't want to kill his beloved, just for some young girl's mistake, but honestly, I didn't know what he was going to do. Was he going with the plan, or killing off Lizzie instead? Right then I knew I made a mistake, telling him. If I could of pulled myself together, I could of told Lizzie to run- get out of the country in order for her safety. But it didn't matter anymore. What's done was done.

"What can I say?" I said somberly, "The girl's an actor."

Erik threw me a glare for using his words and I instantly hushed myself, for I knew Erik was in a vulnerable mood, making him twice as dangerous.

I didn't know what the future held, but I knew something bad was going to happen, something soon. And that something would be happening to the poor girl who kept her heart open for promises she couldn't keep.

* * *

**A/N: Heeeey everyone, I just wanting to thank you for all the support and reviews you guys have given me. It's really pushed me through this chapter! Keep em' coming! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or it's characters or songs.**

Chapter 6: Prima Donna

Lizzie's POV

"William?" I called as I galloped up the wooden stairs that lead me up to the hallways above the stage- where I thought William must have been. I called out his name again, and like last time, there was no answer.

I had been afraid to face him the last week, and still was, even though he was two years younger, his anger was dangerous and boiled fast. My rare moments of cowardice had kept me from even considering talking to him. But I figured thirteen days would give him enough space for him to cool down. And now, it was time for my punishment.

I made it up the stairs to find no one around the wooden table all my stagehand acquaintances always gambled on, but I supposed everyone was probably repairing little things and readying them for our first dress rehearsal tonight. The opera was showing 'Muto ll' for the first time in three years and the production had to be perfect.

In my skirt, I managed to hide a few letters that had been left on my desk this morning for the managers, which had to be delivered by today. Erik didn't visit me the night before, so when I came into my dressing room in the middle of the night, he wasn't in my mirror or in the hallway. I waited for another hour or so before figuring he must have a lot to prepare for the opening night, and I dragged myself back to the dormitories to sleep. This morning, however, I found several letters on my desk and one for me that was already opened. It read: _"Forgive me for last night, I was unavailable. Make sure these letters make it to their destination before 4:30 P.M.- O.G."_

But first things first: I had to make things right with William. This meant telling him I went under the opera and disobeyed his very strict order. And because of this, I had stitches on my head that would leave a scar forever- reminding everybody of my disloyalty and my deadly curiosity.

"William?" I shouted out again, more of a loud statement then a question. I waited for a moment, listening for an answer, and then it finally came.

"Yeah. Over here." I heard him call from a distant room. I strode over to the room he was in, judging by the sound and distance of his voice, and found his back facing me, tying a backdrop to the wooden beams that supported it. I remained silent as I walked into the doorway.

He fiddled with the rope for a moment, and then once the backdrop was somewhat secure, he turned toward me, face bright with curiosity wondering who was calling him. I looked back at him, hopeful, but his expression changed instantly when he saw me standing in the doorway, sheepish like a puppy waiting for its punishment. His face now held disappointment, annoyance, and anger.

"William I-" I began.

"Don't even start." He snapped. His harsh words took me by surprise. William turned away from me again to begin checking the security of the background. "It will be a waste of your words."

I stayed silent because I couldn't find an answer to his expressive words. I didn't have any counterarguments that were valid.

He continued on, "You obviously don't listen to me, so why should I listen to you?" His words made me flinch- I've never seen him this mad, even with the two-week period in-between. He would usually try and fix his problems, but now, I sort of wished I never came up there.

I thought of what to say, then started again for a moment. "Please let me explain-" he interrupted me again.

"Explain what? Explain that you didn't mean to go down there? That you accidently opened the door and _fell_ down the stairs?" William suddenly turned to face me- his expression red with anger. "You were down there for four days and now you just expect me to let it go? I thought you died, Lizzie! Have you ever had that feeling of watching a loved one die and you couldn't do anything about it?"

Instantly, I felt unwelcome tears swell up in my throat, but I stayed silent. I knew exactly how that felt by watching my dad die of disease, each day getting weaker. William must have sensed my silence, but he didn't do anything to comfort me. Instead, he continued.

"Of course you have," he said in a low whisper, but loud enough so I could hear. "Watching your parents like that is tough, isn't it?" His voice became louder and harsher. "Well then why did you put me in that position when you knew exactly how I would feel? Why did you put yourself in danger when you knew you were the only person I had left?"

"I'm sorry!" I pleaded louder than William's shouts. "I didn't ask for this to happen! Yes, I went down there on my own free will, but I was going to come back up once a saw what was down there." William tried to interrupt me for the third time but I kept shouting. "I didn't plan to disappear for four days! I didn't ask to get hurt! I didn't ask for Erik to-" My eyes grew wide and I instantly shut my mouth.

William's voice became hushed and demanding. "Didn't ask for what?" I shook my head and turned away from him, hiding my face and wiping away water that threatened to fall out of my eyes.

"Nothing." I was known to be a good actor, but right now, I was failing miserably.

"Who's Erik?" William yelled at me.

"No one. Just…" I tried to think of something to say, but something hit me. It wasn't true that Erik was nobody. No, he was someone else who abandoned me, like my parents, or William who I didn't even seem to know anymore. Even Christine was starting to pull away, going with the Vicomte. Suddenly, the feeling of loneliness burst my anger.

"Just, why would you bring my mom and dad up in this? I had that feeling more than once, you know! Unlike _you_ my parents loved me!" I felt a tear drip down my face. "And they still left me!"

I took another deep breath, but didn't dare turn around, knowing I hurt William. "Being that attached and dependent on someone, and them just leaving could be enough to push you over the edge. Having that feeling eating away at you for eleven years is a lot to handle. I started to forget but…"

I turned toward him, unable to hide my tears. Surprisingly, his face was still stern.

"Running away," I continued, "you thought you were free. You had the feeling of… the ability to do whatever without getting hurt." I took in a deep breath to compose myself. Then, I finally concluded myself, "So don't you talk to me about that feeling, William. Don't you dare!"

A sudden creak of the floorboards above us snapped me out of my anger. We both looked up to see not even a shadow, but I knew who was there.

"I have to go." I said as stern as I could, looking at him directly in his eyes. I could now see William's regret written all over his face, but he still stayed silent, too proud to take back what he said. Knowing this, I turned away and hastily walked out of the room to deliver the letters, wiping away stray tears and, failing my mission to make things right- this only made thing worse!

5:00 P.M. and the opera house was enraptured in chaos. People jostled with their complicated costumes, almost breaking them in the process, while the two managers were enraged with the letters I secretly delivered to them an hour ago.

Carlotta came back to the opera that night, only to find her role to be played by Christine, and she casted as playing the only part without a single line. She threatened to quit once more, and I thought that was it for her, but the two men who 'ran' the opera tried to convince her to stay. I'm not sure if they succeeded, for I needed to get dressed in my ballet costume because the dress rehearsal started in 30 minutes.

I returned to my dressing room, only to find yet another red sealed note on my desk. Walking over to it, I found it had no name on the front, and as I turned it over, nothing on the back either. Did Erik make a mistake? Was it for me? I opened it without tearing the edges just in case it wasn't, and unfolded the letter. Reading it over briefly, I suddenly got scared- not just for me but also for the entire opera. I rushed out of my dressing room, forgetting my costume and grasping the note tightly in my hand, I ran toward the main entryway, where I hoped the managers and even Carlotta might have been.

If the managers pulled off getting Carlotta to stay and sing, we would all be doomed. I didn't know if Erik would hurt me, but I did know that someone would get killed if I didn't deliver this letter as soon as possible.

But wait! Was I supposed to deliver the note by slipping it into someone's pocket, or just reading it out loud to everyone? I hadn't directly delivered a letter before, but what if someone perhaps didn't check their pockets before rehearsal started? What if no one saw it? Was that my fault? Still trying to figure it out, I walked all around the opera, looking for the big group I had seen earlier.

My footsteps rang out against the marble walls as I stepped into the main entryway of the opera, distracting the many people that were in deep conversation. It was the two managers, Carlotta and Piangi, the Viscount Raoul de Changy, and Madame Giry with her daughter.

Their conversation, or more like yelling at each other, stopped abruptly as they heard me enter.

"May I help you?" Firman Richard- one of the managers- asked in a snobby, exaggerating tone.

I figured there was no other option but to read it, even if it made me look very suspicious. I took a deep breath, knowing I was center-stage, before speaking. "Yes Monsieur, I have a note." At that moment, everyone stayed silence, obviously surprised I held a letter, and looked up at me.

Madame Giry looked at me intensely; looking like she threatened to break the silence and ask what business I had with the Phantom's letter. Not being able to take her stare any longer, I looked down at the letter, and began to read:

"_Gentlemen,_

_I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature, detailing how my theatre is to be run. You have not followed my instructions; I shall give you one last _c_hance. I have returned Christine Daae to you for a reason, for I am anxious her career should progress. In the new production of ll Muto, you will cast Carlotta as the pageboy and put Miss Daae in the role of Countess. The role, which Miss Daae plays, calls for charm and appeal. The role of the pageboy is silent, which makes my casting a word, ideal. I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in box five, which will be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant. -O.G."_

I was stunned at what I just read out loud, even though I scanned through it before. The words alone were enough to scare everyone, especially me, for I knew this wasn't a joke and Erik would kill everyone if he didn't get his way.

My poor Christine, whatever could she do? I knew she didn't want to put a say in this, and she would do whatever people told her to do, which was a problem for me. Should I let her sing? This will please Erik and hold his idea of this 'disaster' but would the management let her sing? Were they really too stuck up trying to get Carlotta to stay that they don't know they could get killed if they did not follow Erik's command?

"Christine." I heard myself whisper. "Christine…"

"Christine!" Carlotta wailed as she broke the unbearable silence as Piangi jumped in, "Its all a plot to help Christine!" I was about to protest, but I realized it was true.

"This is insane!" I heard Firman say over the yelling of Carlotta's protests of the casting.

Carlotta instantly went over to Raoul, who still looked bewildered of the events happening in front of him. "I know who sent it!" she yelled, gaining all the attention. "The Vicomte- her lover." She let the _r_ roll off her tongue as the Viscount protested.

"_Indeed. _Can you believe this?"

"Signora!" Monsieur Andre- the second manager- said to Carlotta as she backed away from Raoul and wailed more in French while starting a fit with her hands. "The man is mad!" He started over to her side, but she instantly fought him off with her hands.

"We don't take orders!"

The voices of the many individuals in this room with different opinions echoed off the walls and, no doubt, spread throughout the opera house. One voices finally overpowered the rest.

"Miss Daae will be playing the pageboy- the silent role. Carlotta will be playing the lead!" it was Monsieur Firman, then joining him was Monsieur Andre. This seemed to calm Carlotta's nerves as she started to consider this offer, but not mine.

I may not of been very well known, or well listened to, but I instantly protested. "Who scorn his word, beware to those. He always sees, he always knows!" The room fell silent on my word once more. Suddenly, everyone was staring at me as if I were a ghost. I may have said too much.

"Mademoiselle," a voice behind me said. I instantly jumped in surprise and turned to find the reason the room was silent, for the Persian stood behind me. He instantly- with no explanation- motioned me to come with him, than turned on his heel, going the way he came in as silently.

I looked back at the many sets of eyes staring at me, guessing my next move as I hoped someone would give me an explanation- or a reason not to go with him. Ever since he looked at me so strangely that day, I started to too.

Madame Giry seemed to have caught my eye again; looking at me with something I had never seen her do- concern.

I turned away shyly with disappointment. No one would care to bail me out this once. I tried to catch up to the Persian that didn't wait for me, and walked faster than ever and still had a hard time catching up- it almost felt like we were running away from something.

After turning a few corners, he suddenly faced toward me, making me stop in my tracks to avoid running into his chest. Even though no light streamed into this hallway, I could still see he looked down at me with concern, and I didn't know why.

Then, he suddenly snatched the letter that I was unconsciously holding for the past few minutes and opened it up. It was a mistake, but I surprisingly didn't try to stop him.

The Persian read it over; then- for a moment- I saw sadness in his eyes. "So it's true." He said, not trying to hide his words. My heart leaped out of my chest, for there was only one explanation for his actions- he knew.

Despite this fact, I tried to hide it. "What is, Monsieur?"

He turned away from me and took a few steps forward to create distance between us. "I didn't want to believe it was true. The bastard" he said in a more hushed tone. I was speechless to what he said. No, I had no way to respond.

"Elizabeth Hart," he spoke in a clear, loud tone, "what have you done to yourself?" I suspected it wasn't a question I was supposed to answer, while ignoring the fact he knew my name. I hung my head in shame. "Why would you associate with him? It is bound to get you in trouble."

I felt my heart beat faster, making my breath constantly speed up- I was now scared for my life, and Christine's. The Persian turned back toward me and crumpled the note in his hand. "Right now," he stuffed the crumpled piece of paper in an inside coat pocket "I want you to go in your dressing room, and get ready for rehearsal. Do not go to Erik tonight, even if he comes to you." I was so confused of how he knew everything about me, but I didn't dare to disobey, or even protest. As I started off in the direction of my dressing room, I heard the Persian say something else.

"Elizabeth," I stopped walking and turned back toward him. "Do not go anywhere without your sword."

I was frightened of what his request meant, but I nodded anyway and was off to my dressing room.

The next 24 hours, I was as alert as an alarm, its only purpose to protect against bad. I carried my sword around with me everywhere I went, and Madame Giry didn't seem to mind, but I knew she noticed. However, the worst part of rehearsal was when Carlotta came out in the Countess's costume, and I knew I couldn't do anything to change it.

I stuck with Christine like glue the entire day, making sure she wasn't in any danger. My heart jumped at everything that may have concerned me, meaning my heart was racing throughout the entire day.

I hadn't seen a single sign of the Persian that day, or of Erik. Erik may or may not have come to my mirror the night before, but I will never know because I followed the Persian's advise of avoiding Erik at all costs.

I didn't know if our deal was still on, for I was betraying Erik in everyway possible, but he hadn't put his consequences in action- yet. I knew something was bound to happen at tonight's performance, Erik said this himself.

During rehearsal, I saw William up in the rafters- managing the lights and backdrops, making me feel a little bit sorry for the way I acted. But after thinking about our fight moments later, it instantly went away, reminding me I was the victim.

I rehearsed again and again throughout the entire day, only stopping for a lunch break or when I wasn't on stage. Christine was watching me closely because of my behavior change that day, but never questioned. I tried to stay on the down low, but it was of no use. I was scared for everyone's life.

The day passed too soon. I had been dreading our first real performance since the moment I woke up, and now, it was here.

I drew a heart next to both of my eyes as part of my costume and for decoration, and stuck bright red lipstick, making the shape of a heart, on my lips. I was already in costume from all the dress rehearsals during the day, so all I had to do I clip my hair in a bun, and do my makeup (which I barely knew how to do).

Helping Christine dress as the pageboy, she put on a brightly colored corset over a white dress shirt, and a veil on her head to 'disguise' herself. Even the makeup couldn't cover up her scared expression, and I'm sure my makeup couldn't either. My heart beat fast every time I heard someone walk outside of Christine's dressing room door.

Soon enough, we were on our way backstage to get ready for the performance, and Christine finally broke our uneasy silence.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

I looked at her with concern as I agreed, not giving a lot of comfort.

"I mean," She continued, "didn't you hear what would happen if Carlotta sang tonight? I'm beginning to think something bad is going to happen."

"Whatever happens, happens. But Christine," I turned her to face me, stopping abruptly in the middle of the hallway, "I swear I won't let anything happen to you."

At this she smiled sadly at me, because we both knew something terrible, 'beyond our imaginations' would occur.

We continued walking toward backstage as I continued, "I'll be there with you, so you have nothing to fear. I promise."

As we made it backstage, I could hear the audience already started filling in the red, velvet seats, chattering and gossiping about tonight's performance. My alert senses picked up, watching out for any signs of Erik, or destruction.

I had been carrying my sword with me this entire time without Christine noticing, which was a relief because if she saw, she would instantly attack me with questions I couldn't answer.

Suddenly, when we were walking down the main hallway backstage, someone tugged on my shoulder, wanting me to turn around. I looked behind my shoulder to see Madame Giry with the same blank expression on her face that I had come to know.

"I want you to come with me, Lizzie." Christine, who turned toward her too asked why.

"The Viscount wants you to watch the performance in his box tonight, with him." She stopped for a moment to remember. "He says he wants to discuss something with you."

"What would that be?" Christine asked in a worried tone. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no." Madame Giry hushed her. Of course she was lying, I could see it without any problems, but she had Christine fooled.

"And you agreed with this? Won't the audience notice a hole in our lines?" I asked Madame Giry urgently. It was not like her to just let one ballerina skip a show, even if she was sick.

"I'm afraid I was overruled," she told me. "That Persian man wants you there too." At this, I knew it had to do with something with the security of Christine during the performance. Raoul may not have known yet, but the Persian knew there would be disaster tonight, and that we must prepare for the worst.

"Now," Madame Giry said as she ushered me back in the direction I came toward the dressing rooms, "you go get dressed and see the Viscount in Box 8 for the performance. I'll get Christine onstage."

I knew why Christine was so unsure about this, and it wasn't because she was worried if something was wrong. She was worried about her growing relationship with Raoul, and him taking me out of the performance to watch in his box wasn't a good sign for a likeness between her and Raoul. But I couldn't tell her that it is about security of her, she would be even more worried for the rest of the night, and maybe couldn't even perform the silent role.

Once I made it to my dressing room, I hadn't had a clue what to wear. Should I dress nice for the performance, or should I dress for fighting?

Tearing through my closet, I finally I picked out a brown, satin skirt that had a small bustle, with a tight dress shirt that buttoned up to sash sleeves that tucked into the skirt. After strapping my sword handle back to my side, I headed for Box 8, where Raoul awaited my presence.

As I walked through the hallways, loud music erupted and echoed throughout Paris, making my heart jump for I was still paranoid of Erik. The opera had begun.

I heard everyone clap for the curtain opened just as I walked into Box 8 to see Raoul sitting in the seat closest to the stage, and the Persian standing by the doorway to the box.

I made my presence clear by clearing my throat louder than the music and singing that begun moments ago, and both men turned toward me. Raoul's face brightened.

"Oh good, I thought you wouldn't make it. Please sit." He motioned to the seat next to him. I walked past the Persian, careful not to make eye contact with him, and slipped into the seat.

"I believe what you said yesterday," Raoul stated just as I settled in my seat and faced the stage. "About Christine singing. I think she deserves to be noticed as a singer and not some dreary ballerina girl." I was first offended, but then I realized it was true, and I wasn't truly a ballerina.

However, thinking about what he said I was instantly confused. Did he think I was just making up that letter just to get Christine to sing?

"I mean, she said she wants to sing for her career when we were children together, and I doubt that has changed-"

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't think you understand what is happening here," I blurted out unexpectedly. I suppose it didn't matter anymore, right? Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked back to see the Persian looking straight at me with warning eyes. I looked back at him, confused. I guess it did still matter. He took his hand off my shoulder and stepped back behind the seats. My attention was drawn back to the stage as Raoul continued talking but I presently ignored him.

I just settled my eyes on Christine, watching her face change to express an emotion and her movements around the stage. My gaze came to the offstage rooms that were easily visible with the angle of the box, watching people coming on and off stage, where I would be if I were still in the performance.

My lips moved with the words of the songs, not even knowing it. Practicing so hard made these songs engrave in your memory.

"So why did you ask me to come up here, Monsieur?" I asked suddenly, cutting in the middle of Raoul's sentences.

He seemed confused for a moment, trying to make sense of my words, but then his face brightened. "Oh yes, I wrote down a few suspects for the 'notes' crime." I felt my insides tighten. He felt inside his pockets for a moment, and then his hand came out with a folded piece of paper.

"You see, I narrowed down the handwriting to a few suspects." He unfolded the paper, revealing one of Erik's notes, and a few different types of handwriting. "These people," he pointed to the names next to their handwriting, "were the closest I could find to the criminal's."

I leaned forward in my chair to take a closer look at the names to act interested, when one stood out to me. It was William's name. I instantly protested.

"Well he is not very old at all! He hasn't learned to use a pen properly, maybe not even at all! The man you are looking for has to be older than him."

Raoul looked at me with confusion. "Just another reason to suspect him. People may think he is too young to be able to handle all this, and that is why 'William'" he read the name, "is doing it. No one suspects the kid."

I rolled my eyes at his reasoning then our attention slowly converted back to the opera.

"Well I can tell you now that it is not-" I started until movement caught my eye backstage where no one was. My heart instantly jumped out of my chest. In one of the backrooms, where I could see clearly from the angle I was seated at, a gloved hand came out of the darkness, switching Carlotta's "voice drink" with an identical liquid.

"It's not what?" Raoul asked, confused I abruptly stopped. The gloved hand- Erik's no doubt- disappeared into the darkness again as quick as it came.

I looked at Raoul, who obviously didn't see a thing, than back toward the pink liquid.

Suddenly, another movement caught my eye, but this time, it was above in the rafters. I wasn't the only one who saw what I saw. William did too.

"I have to go." I said, not taking no for an answer as I got up from my seat and started for the door of the box. The Persian didn't try to stop me, for he looked just as bewildered as I must have been.

Once out of sight of Raoul, I began to run, then sprinted toward the stage. Running down stairs and leaping down on the last four hurt my feet immensely, but I didn't have any time to waste. Deep in my bones, something was about to happen.

My feet got me to backstage, where Madame Giry and the rest of the performers stood and watched the performance, before anything happened. My skirt, with a larger hem than I thought, took up a lot of space as I tried to squeeze my way to Madame Giry's side, to tell her. But wait, should I? I looked up to where William once was, but I didn't see him, which terrified me, even though I was still angry with him. Could Erik have killed him?

I gained a lot of bad comments as I made my way to the front, trying to look for William and saying 'excuse me' or 'sorry' whenever I stepped on someone or my skirt got caught on somebody's costume. I was finally next to Madame Giry's side, and she instantly looked at me with surprise, already knowing something was wrong.

"What is it?" she asked in a hushed tone, making sure no one else could hear.

Suddenly, like a boom of thunder, a large, powerful voice rang out throughout Paris it seemed, saying: "Did I not instruct that Box 5 was to be kept empty?"

Time stopped that moment, everyone too scared and surprised to even move. Even my heart pounded at my chest, threatening to come out.

As shock started to pass, everyone started murmuring in scared, bewildered voices, and some turned to Box 5, where the two managers sat scared beyond recognition. But stupidly enough, they didn't give any signals that they planned to leave.

"He's here." I heard Meg whisper to Christine. "The Phantom of the Opera."

"It's him!" Christine answered back.

I had the instinct to run onto the stage to Christine, but I was frozen in my place.

Carlotta, who didn't seem fazed by anything, walked up to Christine, saying, "You're part is _silent_, you little toad!" Anger rushed through me like pain, and I couldn't stay quiet any longer. Just as I breathed in to say something just as insulting, Erik spoke my mind.

"A toad, Madame?" the auditorium grew silent at his booming voice. "Perhaps it is you who are the toad."

Everyone looked around, including Carlotta, who was now deathly pale, to see where the mysterious voice was coming from. I spotted another movement from up in the rafters, seeing William run toward the back of the auditorium.

Suddenly, someone called for Carlotta behind me. I looked back to see her maid with the candy colored liquid in her hands. She met Carlotta, who was know walking over here, next to me, as I watched the maid squirt the liquid in her mouth.

At that moment, I knew exactly what would happen. The drink- the toad- it all made sense. But there was nothing I could do but to watch her misfortune.

As the conductor calmed everyone down and waved them back in position, the opera started again, quieting the many voices in the crowd.

"Serafimo," Carlotta began again "away with this pretence!" Christine, looking confused, pretended to throw off her skirt, again. "_You cannot speak,"_ she emphasized, "but kiss me in my-"

_CROAK!_

Silence took place in the room, followed by a mysterious, evil sounding laughter. Carlotta looked around at her peers, scared for what her voice had become. The music continued.

"Poor fool, he makes me laugh, ha ha ha ha ha!" she sang quietly, not even loud enough to let the first row of the audience hear.

"Ha-"

_CROAK!_

Another roar of loud laughter.

As she tried to continue, the croaks became more frequent and louder, making Carlotta back up from the stage, while the other actors onstage gathered around her, looking at her with concern.

The managers, who were now pushing there way through all of us backstage, were screaming to bring down the curtain. The music stopped and Carlotta also stopped singing as the red curtain covered the stage and the managers made there way out in front of the audience.

All of us watched the two men bashfully apologize for the performance as I saw Christine come to my side.

"Are you alright?" I asked her as she nodded her head.

"Just scared."

I wrapped one of my arms around her shoulders to comfort her as I told her there was nothing to be afraid of.

"The performance," Monsieur Firman told the audience, "will continued in ten minutes time, as the role of the Countess will be played, by Christine Daae!" he looked toward Christine and I, signaling Christine to get dressed. Madame Giry took her arm and led her off toward the dressing rooms as I watched them go, then turned back to the two managers that looked scared for their lives!

"In the meantime, Ladies and Gentlemen, we shall be giving you the Ballet from act, ugh… 3 of tonight's opera" said Monsieur Andre, who was obviously making it up as he went along.

I looked behind the curtain to see everything in chaos. People swarming around to get off, backdrops just being placed and ballerinas not even in costume. I had to do something!

Monsieur Andre caught my eye as I shook my head and mouthed the word 'no!' He seemed confused at first, but I kept shaking my head and he realized what would happen if the curtain was opened now.

He tried to think of something else to do in the mean time, as they stood onstage awkwardly. The audience seemed to find this funny and the whole room started to chuckle.

"What do you want me to do?" he whispered loudly to me. I looked all around me, thinking of ideas, but none came. Just then, Firman spoke up.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, instead of the ballet, we will present to you a musical performance by, uh…"

"Elizabeth Hart." Andre whispered.

"Elizabeth Hart!" he announced to the audience as he motioned toward me. The auditorium was filled with applause as a spotlight was shown on me offstage.

_What?!_

My heart raced as I decided what to do. I couldn't sing that well! I briefly imagined myself onstage, singing a song horridly and facing the audience's bad reaction.

Just as I thought of running off, Monsieur Andre was by my side and ushered me to top-center stage. The audience continued clapping as the two managers asked what song I knew.

Knowing I had to sing something, I went through my options. There were a lot of songs I knew the lyrics too, but only one I knew how to sing. I told the managers to play "Weep You No More Sad Fountains."

* * *

**A/N Review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or it's plot or characters. I also do not own the song "Weep You No More Sad Fountains" by Patrick Doyle. **

Chapter 7

An uncomfortable silence drifted through the room as the composer rustled through the old score that contained the song "Weep You No More Sad Fountains", giving the sheet music to the rest of the accompanists. I stood on the top of the stage awkwardly as the two managers slipped off to give me the spotlight and full attention that I didn't want.

My heart beat fast as I accepted I would have to hide forever in shame after this performance. I only had eleven singing lessons up my sleeve, so I tried to recall what I learned in every single one of them, applying them to the song I was about to sing.

Looking around at the audience, I could see some giving me hopeful eyes, silently encouraging me, and some who looked at me with disapproval, murmuring about how poor I must have looked in this dress, or how I surely did not have an opera voice at my young age. Some were still even looking around at the ceiling, still trying to figure out where Erik's voice came from. I silently pitied those dumb souls.

My gaze went up the walls, ignoring all the looks I got from the audience, and I briefly saw Raoul sitting there on the edge of his seat, nervous for me, with the Persian still standing behind the red velvet seats of Box 8. They both looked at me with tense eyes, as if telling me to run off the stage that very instant. I would if I could.

Looking farther up toward the ceiling, I saw Edward, with his unmistakable jet-black hair, leaning on the risen beam with all the rest of my fellow stagehand friends, while stupidly waving, trying to get my attention, like an immature schoolboy. I sarcastically rolled my eyes at them, almost laughing in the process, which seemed to fulfill their mission. However, I did not see William there, which definitely wasn't normal.

I looked at the huge chandelier that hung in the center of all things beautiful, gleaming in all of its glory, and looking down on us as if it were a guardian angel. The thought of having someone there protecting me made me smile internally, even if it were an inanimate object.

While looking up at the complicated candelabrum, my eye caught movement up in the rafters, just behind the chandelier. My eyes grew wide as one of the thin pieces of wood shook softly, as if wind brushed the edge. Trying to look through the diamonds of the chandelier, a cloaked figure with the pearl white mask caught my eye, and as I looked at him, Erik glared right back at me with those piercing gold eyes, revealing only a glint of emotion. I stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly gaping open at the surprise and fear of his presence.

Like a clap of thunder, the first notes of the song began, making me snap back into reality and whip my head back toward the audience. I briefly went through the long list I made of every technique Erik taught me, adding in what I knew from off the top of my head.

As the final notes of the instrumental section of the song came to an end, I took a deep breath in with my diaphragm and let my voice form the familiar words that consisted of this song.

"_Weep you no more, sad fountains_

_What need you flow so fast?"_

My arms started gesturing to the words as I kept a somber expression on my face. My voice obviously didn't compare to Carlotta's wide range of notes, but it sounded almost identical to when I practiced with Erik under the opera a few nights ago, even without warming up my voice, which was lucky.

"_Look how the snowy mountains_

_Heaven's sun doth gently waste"_

I sang with all my might and power I held, trying to annunciate and project the words to combine my voice with the loud music that easily overpowered me. Even looking directly at the audience, I could feel Erik's golden stare melting me from top to bottom.

"_But my son's Heavenly eyes_

_View not your weeping_

_That now lie's sleeping"_

An image of me back under the opera, horribly singing on that ghostly stage came to my mind for some reason. I faintly remembered the feeling of standing alone on a huge stage in front of hundreds, and how unrealistic it was- until now.

"_Softly, softly, now softly_

_Softly lies sleeping…"_

The feeling of relief washed over me, for the fact that I was halfway done with the song. I let my arms drift in any direction they wanted, making sure I was doing something at every moment on stage and not awkwardly staring out into the audience. I didn't dare fixate my gaze on anyone in particular in the crowd, for that would be highly uncomfortable for that person and me. Obviously, I didn't want to embarrass myself anymore than my untrained voice already had.

I slightly tilted my head upward, careful not to give any of my intentions away, back up to the chandelier. I looked through the diamonds to try and find Erik again, but this time I couldn't. A bad feeling invaded my mind as I tried harder to look for Erik's figure, widening my eyes. Unfortunately, I found nothing but the soft sway of the diamonds of the chandelier.

_Where did he go?_ I thought uneasily. Would he really leave in the middle of my performance? My heart started to beat faster as I scanned the entire ceiling of the opera house, trying to pick up any of Erik's cat-like movements. Suddenly, my head turned back to the beam that Erik was standing on a minute ago because it started to shake- violently! I looked to the very right of the girder to briefly see William running to the center of the room.

My heart jumped as I saw this, but I couldn't infer what he was doing, because the next line of the song had come. Scared for the reason William was up their, my voice came out timid, which was highly noticeable for the audience, who was now shiftily uneasily in their seats.

"_Sleep is a reconciling,_

_A rest that peace begets"_

Trying to make my voice come out stronger, I drew in my expressive arms into my chest, folding my hands at my heart.

"_Doth not the sun, rise smiling_

_When fair at even he set?"_

The worry of where Erik went didn't disappear as I swiftly glanced over at the right wing, seeing if Christine could be there. Unfortunately, I was almost positive that she was getting dressed, unless Erik got to her first. My voice almost cracked at this thought- luckily it didn't.

"_Rest you then, rest, sad eyes_

_Melt not in weeping_

_While she lies sleeping"_

Looking quickly at the ceiling, I sang as high as my vocal chords could go for the next line, trying only to focus on finishing the song.

"_Softly, softly, now softly-"_

Suddenly, my heart dropped like a rock hitting the ocean, as I didn't even finish the last line in the song, making some murmuring in the crowds and confusing the composer who kept going with the song anyway.

Up in the rafters, I saw William standing just where Erik was. But he didn't seem to be standing normally- it looked like he was trying to resist a backward force that was threatening to pull him back. I squinted, trying to see past the chandelier and the white spotlight that was directed on me. I walked to the left of the stage, trying to see around the chandelier that blocked my view- it didn't matter how stupid I looked at the moment.

The spotlight was kept on me, and I lifted my hand to block the light from my eyes. I could hear the audience questioning my actions, but now, I didn't care.

As my eyes adjusted up to the rafters, I saw the beams were shaking violently, and then, Erik was there! He was walking swiftly to the center of the rafter where William was, still looking like he was caught on something. Then, William fell to his knees, then to his stomach.

Horror struck me as I saw William lying by the feet of Erik, who was now kneeling next to him, squirm like a fish out of water, trying to escape the wrath of Erik's Punjab Lasso that was swiftly fastened around his neck. Why didn't I notice it earlier? Now, I knew exactly what was going on, and what would happen to William.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, not caring if it damaged my vocal chords. The music instantly died off and everyone was now alarmed at my high-pitched shriek. From what I could see, most of the audience and maybe some people backstage turned to the ceiling for an explanation of my terror. I hoped that my scream would alert other people of the situation happening right above us and make Erik retreat before getting caught, possibly saving the life of someone I cared for.

Yes, even though we ended on a hateful fight, I did truly still care for my friend. I didn't want him to die! I'd rather go back up there and take the horrible scowling and face my punishment than it to end here! I'd rather do anything but let William face this horrible death!

Erik instantly heard my screech and looked down on me at surprise and anger as he swiftly got up from his kneeling position and retreated off the rafter as quick as he came. I was relieved for a moment until I noticed William wasn't moving.

"No!" I screamed at my loudest ability, my hands clutching my heart.

"Lizzie! What is it?" I heard someone shout behind me over the murmuring of the paranoid audience. Someone clutched both of my forearms, wrestling me to my knees as if I were to kill someone with a knife. I identified this person as Madame Giry, even though I fixed my eyes on William's body, hoping- pleading that he would get up!

"Will- William!" I stuttered as I managed to point up toward the ceiling. I could feel Madame Giry almost recoiling from the stage at the sight of William's body.

Everyone gasped as they looked up to where I pointed, and soon, the women were screaming and the men were shouting at the murder that took place just above them.

At the corner of my eye, I saw Edward and one of the stagehands, Peter, who was about my age, disappear into the hallways behind them to get to William.

I faintly heard the two managers- still too stubborn to get out of Box 5- try and yell over the shouts of everyone to calm everyone down, assuring the crowd it was just an accident. Of course, no one believed them, even in the tone of their voices I could tell they didn't believe themselves.

In the moment of pure grief, I fought off the arms of Madame Giry and rushed myself offstage, heading to a spiral staircase that headed toward the rafters.

Everyone was running around and panicking backstage, but I didn't even notice- I was to wrapped up in trying to get to the rafters with Edward to get William.

If I had thought it through, I wouldn't even think about going up by the chandelier- I wouldn't have even gone up to the backdrop floor! I was entering Erik's territory, and for the fact that he was hunting me, going anywhere down below or up high would be extremely dangerous. But I couldn't think straight at that moment- I was too intrigued with getting to William and seeing if he was even the smallest bit alive!

I raced up the spiral staircase, as fast as my wretched skirt would let me, as I pushed pass many panicked people, going the opposite way I was and too scared to stop me. But I didn't need anyone to tell me what to do or what I've done.

Suddenly, a thought of hate came into my mind. If William was dead, it was the Persian's fault. If I were to stay by Erik's side and not listen to that Persian, he wouldn't have been this mad and hurt William. Surely Erik thought the casting for the show was my fault, too! But no! If the Persian hadn't make me stop seeing Erik, everything would be okay.

But in the back of my mind, the real reason William was dead was because of me. If I would of listened to him by not going down those stairs, I wouldn't have run into Erik and all of this wouldn't of happened! It was my actions that put everyone in danger.

As I finally neared the end of the stairs, two girls, ballerinas because I recognized them, were running down the staircase, panicked and screaming.

"He's here!" the one on the right squealed in a high voice as they jumped pass me, not even knowing I was there. This made me hesitate to step off the stairs- the first action of common sense I made in a while. Did I want to risk my life just to see if William's alive? Because of the time that passed as I rushed up here, was I already too late? Was it hopeless?

I was about to step back down until a thought popped in my head.

_What if he was still alive?_ Was I really that paranoid to not take a chance? This thought gave me the courage and bravery to turn around and keep going to the rafters. But not the way I was planning to go. No, I needed a quicker route.

I thought of a way that could be used to get up to the rafters faster as I strode down a darkened hallway- then a passageway came into mind. I quickly remembered the entrance- it had been a long time since I used it. Actually, I never used it. I just remembered Erik showing it to me if I ever needed it. Now, I needed it more than ever.

I glanced behind me quickly, making sure no one saw me going somewhere unknown (I didn't want any more trouble than I was already faced with) and I took a sharp turn, going into an even darker hallway- if that was even possible. I felt the cold stonewall, feeling for a door. I knew it was here somewhere! Then my hand hit a doorknob.

I turned it quickly and pushed the door open with difficulty- it was much heavier than I expected, but I managed to pry it open by pushing my entire body against it. A cool draft brushed my cheeks and moved my skirt as it opened, but I didn't take it to notice for I was inside the door just as quick as it opened.

Inside the doorway, there was a stairwell that led up to the highest level of the opera- excluding the roof- and I knew from experience I could get to the rafters from there. There was a doorway on top of the stairs that was slightly open, giving the only light in the passage. I started for it when suddenly, the door that I came through slammed shut, giving off a loud _thud._ My heart jumped, as I whipped my head back to see… nothing. There was no one there. I half expected to see Erik there, or maybe Madame Giry, but there was no one, or nothing.

I stayed completely still and silent, waiting for another clue of someone's presence, though I'm not sure I wanted to hear anything. But there it was, another creak somewhere above me. I quickly looked up to, again, only see darkness, but I was sure there was someone with me right now, and I didn't want to find out.

My heart was beating faster than ever, knowing it could be one of Erik's tricks… or traps! Knowing Erik, if I didn't get out of here now, something horrible would happen, and it will probably be my death.

Letting out a small gasp, I rushed toward the stairs and climbed them two at a time, not wanting to waste the little time I already had, but on the second-to-last stair, I suddenly felt a resist on the hem of my skirt. I looked down to see, not someone grabbing it, but caught up in a jetted out nail.

I glanced behind me out of habit and pulled as hard as I could on my skirt, not caring if it ripped. At this point it looked like the only way I was going to get out of it. Abruptly, there was a creak of a floorboard somewhere near the door on the bottom, making me panic and pull even harder.

_Damn skirt! _I screamed at myself as it started to tear. The thread was now coming out and the skirt came loose, letting me yank it out of the nail and to continue up the stairs at an even faster pace.

When I made it to the top of the staircase, I pulled open the door and rushed out of the room, then slammed the door behind me, as if not letting a single molecule of air escape from the room. Relief washed through me like a warm liquid on a cold day, comforting, as I held onto the handle of the doorway, like Erik would come through the doorway any second and holding the handle prevented it. And for a moment, I thought I was safe, but suddenly, reality set in for I could easily hear the screams of many running out of the opera house below.

I had a feeling of horror as I could now hear everything that was going on down below, knowing it was all my fault. This entire scene was my fault, and it was a fatal mistake.

_Not yet!_ I pushed myself as I realized William could still be alive. A rush of adrenaline passed through me as I backed away from the door, then, turning toward the chandelier which was swaying slightly, I saw William in the same spot as I saw him before, lifeless, not moving. Guilt invaded my mind at that moment.

The rafters were now a half a floor below me, so I could easily jump onto a beam that hung right to the left of me, the one that William was on. The only obstacle was the wooden railing that kept everyone from doing what I was thinking about doing.

I slowly walked toward the edge, for I was still paranoid of the passageway incident, and grabbed onto the railing, allowing me to look down. It was a mistake.

From what I could infer, someone had called the police to come quick, and they were now invading the auditorium, pushing people out of the way who were going the opposite direction- which was almost everybody. A big, bulky man who was screaming orders at the top of his lungs trying to get his voice over the yelling of people led them all. He stood at the doorway as his men rushed by him, not in any kind of order, with the two managers at his side. It was too far away to see their expressions, but I could tell they were as frightened as ever.

I could tell they were securing the perimeter of the opera, while some started making there way down different passageways, trying to find their way up to where I was. Watching they way they were going, it would take a while.

Abruptly, someone said my name, and it wasn't from a distance. "Lizzie!" I jumped at his voice, but before I could turn around, a hand was placed on my shoulder. I whipped myself around to see Edward, with an expression I've never seen him wear- fright. And I wouldn't blame him. Peter, who looked just as bad, followed Edward at a fast pace. He gave me a weird kind of look for a split second, one I couldn't decide on an emotion, but I looked away as Edward started talking.

"What are you doing up here? You know how dangerous it is?" His words where scolding, but his tone wasn't- as if he would be surprised _not_ to see me up here. I didn't have to answer his question. Then, he looked at me with confusion. "How did you get up here so fast?"

Suddenly, I felt like crying. Everything was rushing back toward me. That one order that I denied William, changed my life. I didn't answer again.

Instead, I asked a question that was the main reason we were all up here. "Is- is he… dead?" I stuttered. Edward put both of his hands on my shoulders.

"I don't know-"

"But either way, we have to get him off there." Peter interrupted. I've seen him around the rafters before, but I have never heard his voice before. It seemed… familiar.

"Why?" I asked slowly.

"Because," he scoffed as if it were obvious, "if the police find a murder up here, they'll have no choice but to shut down the opera! And truthfully," he looked me straight in the eye, "I don't think any of us have a place to go."

I nodded at this, knowing it was true. I turned back to Edward who now took his hands off my shoulders and took a step back. "How do we get him off?"

"The same way he got on," Edward stated in monotone. I turned toward the jump one of us would have to take to make it to the rafter. I was surprised that William made the jump. Getting across was half the mission, then crawling across the beam that, I'm sure, wasn't supported enough to carry more than a few people, and going back the entire way, carrying William while trying not to get seen by the police and in the amount of time we have until they get up here was bad enough.

There was more too. Getting down to floor level without running into Erik or the police was going to be worse. But, through all the odds, I still felt brave in doing it.

"I'll go." I decided as I took a step forward toward the wooden railing. Obviously, Edward protested.

"No, no, no, Lizzie. I'll go." He grabbed my arm, preventing me from moving another inch, and surprisingly, I didn't try and pry off his arm. Instead I watched him walk up to the railing. "I'm sure you'd pull it off, but not in a dress," he said in a playful tone. I looked down on the skirt that caused me so much trouble, and brushed the edge of it hard, as if hitting it.

When I looked up, Edward was already sitting on the railing, facing the chandelier, reading himself to propel off the wood, and make it onto the rafter. My heart beat fast for Edward's sake.

"Be careful." Peter said in a reassuring tone, as Edward shifted his feet ever so slightly to get into the position to jump. Suddenly, he leaped from the railing into midair in hopes to get to the rafter. He flew in the air for a moment until he went below the railing where we couldn't see him. Peter and I ran over to the edge to see Edward gripping the brink of the beam, and then steadily lifting himself onto the rafter. The rafter swayed slowly because of his impact, but nothing too drastic.

He waited until it stopped shaking to start moving- or crawling- toward the center, which was smart. I held my breath as he moved his arms to drag himself along the thin beam that was only held up by a few ropes on either side of the opera, which were not that sturdy, until he got to William's body.

Suddenly, I heard loud voices coming behind me, and I whipped my head around to sense the voices where coming from behind the walls. I steadied my eyes, as if to see there voices, to hear where there voices where coming from. Then, I heard the voices of two men- policemen I assumed- behind the door where the secret entrance I took up was.

"Peter! They are already up here!" I said in a hushed tone, not giving our presence away to the police who were walking up the stairs. Already knowing what to do, we rushed over to the doorway, which was visible from the outside, and pushed our arms against the door, not letting the policeman get out. I could hear their trouble as they did they same thing on the other side, making Peter and I push our bodies' flush against the doorway.

We couldn't let them get in, we just couldn't!

_Oh, hurry Edward!_ It was a race against time at this point. _If only there was some way to make you go faster. Or to stop them from coming…_

Suddenly, an idea popped in my head. My sword!

I completely forgot about the sword that was strapped to my belt the entire performance. As long as I had my sword, I could protect myself.

After taking the sword out of my belt with difficulty, I wedged it in between the door and the floor, as if it were a doorstop, then, stepping back from my idea, I saw that it worked well. The men on the other side were still pounding away at their only entryway to the rafters, hoping to get through.

I took a glance at Peter, who was clearly relived and impressed with my quick thinking. But then our attention was back to Edward, who was having difficulty on the rafter.

We rushed ourselves to the other side of the balcony, grabbing hold of the railing and leaning over to see Edward, struggling to keep himself on the upside of the beam, and trying not to get seen from below. He was almost to William's lifeless body, and with every move he'd make, it made me shudder in fear.

Edward was now one yard away from William's foot, which was twisted at a weird angle considering his fall, and he reached out to grab it, as if it would steady himself. My heart beat fast at what might happen. Would William wake up when Edward touched him? Or would he stay still…

I held my breath as Edward's hand came down on William's calf. Gripping the railing harder, I watched for movement. Waited for any signs. But there was nothing. Nothing but silence from everyone around the world, listening for a stir in William's state. Even the chandelier stopped swaying and the policemen stopped shouting at this moment. I leaned down as far as I could go, getting closer to the rafter, hearing for a moan from William, or anything at all.

The railing was shaking, and I instantly withdrew from it, but then I realized it was me that was shaking like a leave in autumn. I could feel tightness in my chest- guilt.

Edward scooted closer to William, reaching to his face that was turned the other way. He brushed the back of his hand on William's cheek, then moving closer, his hand came down below his chin, then flush against William's neck.

Heartbeat. Judging from the slowness of Edward's withdraw, there was none.

Edward slowly looked up at me and Peter- who I forgot was even next to me- and shook his head with intense sorrow and sadness.

William was dead. I felt dead. The feeling of intense questioning of why I was even living came into my mind. I caused nothing but grief- nothing but fright and _death_ in the eyes of so many innocent souls. I was the one that caused all this, and no matter how much I denied it, it was true. No longer could I deny the _bloodshed_ in my name.

I felt like jumping off that balcony that moment, joining myself with my one true friend that was always there for me, but something stopped me, and that was the memory of Christine.

The fact that I swore to protect Christine with my life triumphed all thoughts of suicide, for I was all she had to defend her from Erik. Only the fact that I had no idea where she was, and- who knows? - she could be dead, too. But it was up to me to find out. However, at that moment, I couldn't move. It felt like I wasn't even breathing- and I wasn't, for I was holding my breath for at least a minute. Everything felt like slow motion, nothing mattered except the fact that Christine was out there somewhere, unguarded.

Suddenly, a loud _crack _smacked my out of my thoughts, and I found myself stumbling over my feet and Peter pulling me to the opposite side of the opera's ceiling. I glanced behind me for one moment, hair flying in my face for Peter was running at an intensely fast rate where I could barley keep up, but once I looked back, I knew why.

The policemen broke through the door and my sword, leaving the handle broken and rolling off the edge of the balcony, never to be seen again. They exploded out the door and started sprinting toward us, ready to capture and arrest us even if we were only teenagers. I hadn't even considered the fact that they most likely thought we were the ones that committed the murder with no evidence to support any signs Erik. It made it even worst for the fact that we tried to block the door and was now running away.

But Edward! What would happen to him? Surly he was not already up on the balcony hidden somewhere. No- I wouldn't abandon him too!

I yanked my arm backwards, halting Peter who looked bewildered at my actions.

"We have to help Edward!" I shouted over the sound of trampling feet of the policemen who weren't far away at all.

"No- no time!" Peter stuttered as he began to pull me again. I resisted.

"It is my fault he is on that rafter and I will not stop until he is off!" I yelled boldly, even if I had no idea how. If Edward faced something because of my actions, I would face the same fate.

"No, Lizzie!" Peter began pulling my arm with all his strength, giving me no choice but to follow. I tried to stop, but I couldn't get my feet to listen, as if they only cared about myself. I didn't want to leave Edward, I didn't want to leave William, but I still couldn't stop.

We ran all the way around the balcony until we were on the other side of the door policemen were still filing in from. If they keep coming, there wouldn't be any room to stand! I looked down at Edward, who wasn't moving from his spot in the center of the chandelier. Police officers started jumping on either side of the center rafter, coming toward Edward.

But what tore my heart open was the fact that Edward rested William's head on his lap, as if he were still alive and sleeping in the arms of his caretaker. Edward's face wasn't panicked either, he looked absolutely calm, as if accepting the fact that he may be joining the kid on his lap soon.

"Lizzie!" Peter shouting over my silent mourning- urgent and scared. "Do you know where there might be another way out?"

I looked back toward Peter's frantic face, and then, remembering any other passageways, I took the lead. Someone had to get out alive.

"Over here!" I shouted, as the policemen were only one hundred yards away from us. Feeling for the invisible door handle on the wall, Peter shouted at me words I couldn't make out, most likely questioning my actions, telling me what would happen if we where caught. I ignored him, then, proved him wrong as I felt the handle and pushed it open.

I shoved Peter through the dark doorway, to surprised at this entryway's appearance, then, taking one last look at Edward and William, who where both completely calm, I ran through the doorway and shut it just in time.

Silence followed the slamming of the door, us to tired to talk, or run away. Just time for us to catch our breaths.

I knew the police wouldn't be able to find the doorway's handle, so I didn't bother to lock it. After a few moments of silence, I spoke up, knowing I had to find Christine before anything.

"Peter, take this stairwell all the way down to the ground floor, and do not get caught." It seemed obvious, but at the moment, I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"What- what about you?" his voice came out weak and ragged.

"I need to take care of something." I knew a way to Christine's dressing room from here that didn't involve the main hallways. Learning these paths was one of the only good things about Erik. Though, without him, I wouldn't be in this mess.

Peter, to tired and panicked to ask any more questions, he grabbed the railing of the stairwell, almost impossible to see in this darkness, and climbed down the stairs, slow. After he disappeared into darkness, I followed a different path at a different pace- as quick as I could.

After a minute of following the path, I could see light again. This path dropped off into a side passage that only the stagehands knew about, for it was for getting to different parts of the opera fast. I ran down it quickly, but I stopped at the sound of distant voices- it sounded like… Christine? And someone else I couldn't recognize.

The voices got louder as I stepped out of the middle of the path, hiding myself in the shadows for superstitious reasons. I realized they were coming down the opposite way I was going at a slow rate. Then I could make out the voices. It was Christine and… Raoul.

"Order your fine horses, be with them at the door!" Christine sounded happier than ever, even with all the events that were taking place. I wonderer what she meant, it wasn't until Raoul spoke when I realized.

"And soon, you'll be beside me…" his voice was passing me as I watched them walk right by without them even noticing I was there.

"You'll guard me and you'll guide me…" Christine's voice disappeared as they went down the staircase, linked onto each other by looping their arms. They were in love, and no amount of anything could change that. I hadn't heard Christine that happy since… well, I couldn't even remember when! I sure it was like that before her father died, before she met me…

A cold draft swept through the room as I was left in silence, not sure how to react to this. Though instead of the wind disappearing, it kept coming, making a shiver crawl up my body.

Coming out of the darkness and looking up toward the dark ceiling, I saw a doorway wide open, letting in a cool wind. I had never seen that door before in my life.

Squinting at it, I saw it wasn't to another room- it was to the roof. I could see tiny snowflakes drifting in the doorway, surely destroying the wood once it melted. I didn't know how to get up to it, not seeing a stair well or anything, but maybe this was a good thing. Something about that doorway told me not to go near it. To run away and never go near it again.

Turning away from it, another wind sliced through my body, leaving me shivering, and I knew I would have to go close it. What could happen? It was only a doorway that needed to be closed. Besides, its not like it went somewhere I didn't know- it went to the roof and I was sure of that.

After a minute or so of looking around I found a well-hidden staircase that led up to the door, and I instantly started up it, not recovering from the cold.

As I neared it, the roof wasn't silent anymore. The wind howled and snow flew, making the ideal place to freeze to death, but I didn't back away. I held my shaking arms and reached for the handle of the heavy door, but something caught my eye outside. Out of all the white snow, a single red rose lying on the ground made my eyes widen. At that moment I knew exactly where Erik was. He wasn't haunting the hallways or stalking Christine, no. He was up here, yet I still didn't find a way to run.

I've made many mistakes in my life- going down that staircase a few months ago was just one of them- and this was another.

I walked out onto the deck of the opera house, and made my way to the fallen rose that was now withered from the snowy weather, and bent down next to it. I didn't recognize it but, somewhere in my heart, I knew it was Christine's. Picking it up, I pressed it to my nose, inhaling the scent of Christine's perfume mixed with the rose.

He saw everything. He knew everything. He will kill everything. And it started with me.

The wind stopped for a moment, letting there be complete silence. My heart beat so fast, because I could now feel his presence behind me.

Slowly as I could, I turned back toward the door, and just like I predicted, Erik was standing there, obviously hurt and emotionally killed, looking me straight in the eyes.

I was scared. Knowing it could be your last minute to live would scare anyone, but there was a look in his eyes that made my heart jump. Hurt mixed with anger and a touch of flame. Looking straight in his eyes was painful- it was like he was stealing life from my soul.

I didn't dare move, speak or make a noise, as if he were a wild animal that would tear you apart if you made any sudden movement. That was exactly what he might've done.

I shook out of fright- not the cold. I was powerless. My sword was gone and no one was here to help me. He could do anything and no one would ever know. I stood at the doorway to death. This silence itself could have killed me. It wasn't until he spoke was I emotionally killed.

"I gave you my music-" his voice was shaky, like my breathing. The sound of his voice gave away the fact that he was crying this very moment. "Made your song take wing…"

I stood there, not able to move, nor speak, nor breathe. My only option was to face with fate without fear, and I was already losing it.

"And now- how you've repaid me. Denied me and betrayed me!" his voice rose as the sentence continued, making me tense and prepare for death. But, at this line, I broke. Tears started spilling- the tears I held in for too long were now streaming down my face. I felt… almost bad for Erik. He started crying again too, as if I wasn't there. As if he never deserved any of this.

Suddenly, he turned away from me at an angle as he looked up toward the moon, then starting speaking to himself, forgetting I was there. He whispered softly, making me listen intently. "He was bound to love her, when he heard her sing…"

_Christine._

"Christine." He whispered. Then he broke like me. Starting to cry hysterically, he knelt to the ground, covering his face with his hands as if to stop the tears. But they wouldn't.

I fully faced him, deciding whether or not to go over to him, but I decided not, for this was my fault and he would surely kill me if I got too close. I could felt the wetness under my eyes, but I couldn't move my arms to wipe the tears away. I could only watch Erik sobbing over his only loved one, which was now betraying him too.

He whispered her named again, then slowly moving his hands up to his ears; he covered them, as if blocking the sounds of Christine's sweet voice- taunting him.

After all he has done to me, I still couldn't bear the sight of him suffering, sobbing alone with no one in the world to care. But the question was- did I care? Did I feel pity on this man who killed some many and will probably add me to the list?

_Yes._

I slowly walked over to him, careful not to interrupt his sobbing, and was about to kneel next to him, until he suddenly looked up at me with crazy eyes.

I gasped as his breathing became shakier than it already was and as he started to get up from his kneeling position. I stumbled back, careful to avoid what ever may be coming for me, but at that point, there was no escape. No way out.

I backed up slowly as he started walking toward me with extreme hate in his eyes, narrowed directly at me.

"You will curse the day you did not do…" he yelled with all of the might the world could possess, making my heart jump and back away faster, tripping over my feet in the process. I backed all the way up to where my heels were off the edge of the opera, letting snow fall off. I grabbed the side of a grey statue that captured Ares in the middle of a sword battle, for if I let go, I would fall off the edge. Erik kept walking toward me with increasing speed.

"All that the Phantom asked of-" he stood in front of me, then, grabbing my neck, he flung me back onto the roof, making me tumble on the ground. Then, before I could blink, Erik was onto of me, pinning my arms down with both of his knees, leaving me powerless.

"YOU!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Then, taking his sword that was secretly tucked away in his cloak, he put his left hand on top of my mouth, muffling the screams I was now shouting, and tilting my head upwards, leaving my neck completely exposed. And he took advantage. Erik brought his sword down on my neck and started tearing away the skin that lie on the top of my throat.

I screamed out in agony and pain but you could barley hear it thanks to Erik's gloved hand. He was not cutting my throat like I thought he would, but it was like he was digging through my neck to find the bones itself. Why wouldn't he just kill me? This torture was too much to bear, but he was careful enough not to kill me.

When his voice finally echoed out, he got off of me, though I was paralyzed, too much pain to move. Blackness invaded my vision as the last thing I saw was Erik whipping his cloak and he was gone.

There I lay, helpless and left for death.

**Sorry for the long wait- hope you like it nonetheless. Remember to R&R!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Pain, memories, exhaust, and fear. The four elements of weakness now boiling up inside of me.

Pain hit first, grabbing and slicing at my neck, resembling a silver bullet grinding at my throat, and finally setting it on fire- and that was the smallest of them all. The memories had a different kind of power on me.

How numbly the memoirs came and went, flying through my head as I tried to make sense of them, only to watch the little clips of struggle go through my mind. I saw _me_ first, how the cold, snowy ground felt against the two thin layers of clothing and how time seemed to slow as the famous Opera Ghost whipped his long black cloak, leaving me to taste the fires of hell. Then, my thoughts worked harder to go back further, and I suddenly saw flashes of my reckless performance, my voice wavering at the orchestra's booming music and then the chandelier swaying, the struggle plastered on William's face as he was thrown to the doorway of death- I was never to forget that. It resulted in a foiled attempt to save him, and it only made things worse when men who misunderstood our intentions surrounded Edward.

After this, I stopped trying to go further into detail from what happened that day, and found myself tired beyond belief. For one, my eyes weren't even open yet- tears of heartache dried onto my eyelids, and with my little strength, it formed an almost impenetrable crust for my eyes to be let free from darkness. The weariness was so strong I was unable to lift my arm and wipe it off. Suddenly, I felt the same way as when I was lost under in the catacombs of the opera house- _panic_. I was unable to escape the darkness even if all I had to do was open my eyes. This led up to the deepest emotion of them all. And that was fear.

I had encountered fear many times in the last few months, but this was greater than all of them. The fear was greater than I ever imagined- it was the fear that I couldn't protect myself even if I gave all my strength. And if I couldn't protect myself, then how on earth could I ever protect Christine? She could be dead for all I knew, while I lied here on-

_Where am I? _I thought numbly. Opening my eyes, I still couldn't see like I hoped- darkness still surrounded me, blocking all the unknown surroundings from my sight.

A lone candle sat on a nightstand next to me, flickering against the intense darkness, battling for a place in the room, but it still didn't give the light I needed for my eyes to adjust quickly- and I needed to know where I was as soon as possible. I could be in Erik's lair for all I knew.

But suddenly, something sparked my memory. The thick wool blanket I could now see told me that I was in my own bed in the dormitories… but why did it look so different?

Yes, there was the same footboard of the bed I slept on for years- that reassured me, but I didn't remember having my bed all alone next to a nightstand- there was _always_ someone else's bed very close to mine, and never enough room for a nightstand. I wasn't in the dormitories like my bed should've been…

However, this room had its own kind of memory. I had been here before- many times, but why couldn't I tell where I was exactly?

After a few minutes of being alone in darkness, my pupils became bigger, trying to take in any light they could find, and I could start seeing walls. At that moment, I knew where I was. I was in my dressing room! The same pressed rose petals that decorated my walls and vintage perfumes on my desk took over my mind. It was just that my bed was now inside the little room, making almost no space to get from one end to the other.

Still, something didn't seem right. A gloom of eerie dimness faded into the room, giving a softer, more sinister glow than I remembered. The window shades were closed and the candle wax was dried, making it clear no one has ever stepped foot in the room in a while. And that could've been possible, depending on how long I was out.

I wondered why I was placed in the dressing room instead of the 'medical room'- a dormitory with more room for beds and a few more washrooms than any other cabin. It also seemed unusual my dressing room wasn't filled with people, such as doctors, reporters, gossiping ballerinas, and Madame Giry questioning what had happened that night. Unless they thought I was dead…? I was sure that wasn't the case, though.

I felt liquid drip down my collarbone, slowly rolling down my neck then gaining speed and finally hitting the bed sheets. I was tickled by the sensation, causing my shoulder and head to try and wipe off the little water drop's trail, but that was a mistake. At once, I felt the sharpest pain I've ever encountered center at the right side of my neck, beginning the longest moments of grief ever came upon my poor body. If that wasn't enough, it also triggered a stiff cry of agony to shoot from my vocal cords- the last plea of survival someone in my position could give.

I stilled myself completely after the little yelp to establish if anyone else had heard my struggle, straining to catch any other movements with my ears over the sound of my pounding heart. And my fears were answered by the light sound of whispering- so quiet I couldn't even strain to hear whoever might be in the room with me. A few moments after the quite murmuring had passed, footsteps began to fill the air- the shuffling of a person who was trying desperately to be quiet, briefly followed by another pair of whispers and a new pair of steps.

I closed my eyes as the footstep's echo filled the room, listening closely as they neared the foot of my bed. Suddenly, I could hear pouring water, making me automatically open my eyes and turn toward the direction of the loud sound that didn't take much to break the silence in a matter of seconds. Though it hurt my neck more- no doubt- I could finally relax.

Christine's small figure was kneeling at the edge of my bed, looking at me with intense worry and a few hints of sadness drifting through her eyes. As we made quick eye contact, she instantly lit up in a bright smile that penetrated the darkness surrounding us.

"Lizzie!" she cried in the most relieving tone she could find in her vocal chords, forcing me to smile and let go of a short laugh that I so desperately needed to let out. Christine threw her arms around me as best she could, for I was still laying in the little twin bed, but she found the need to do so anyway. I tried my best to return the small gesture that meant so much to both of us, resulting in another cry of pain as I desperately tried to lift my arm. Christine instantly threw herself off of me, seeing that she was the source to my agony.

"Watch out" another voice commanded of Christine. She moved to the side as Madame Giry stepped into the light, holding a sopping wet rag, dripping all over her hand and siding down her arm. She had the same blank expression on her face, created by both pride and boredom- nothing different- yet something was. I read her eyes quickly as she bent over my bed and touched an old towel that I just noticed was sprawled across the injured part of my neck, giving off a sharp pain. Fortunately, I managed to control the cry of discomfort that followed, turning it into a stiff draw of breath. Unfortunately, her eyes shifted down to the wound before I had the opportunity to see what was unusual about her gaze.

She took off the damp towel and quickly replaced it with the drenched cloth, not letting the wound get a breath of fresh air for a moment. As the coolness of the towel sunk into my bare skin, my eyes widened at the piercing sensation of water coming into contact with the exposed gash. I breathed heavily as I tried to get used to the throbbing feeling, causing Christine to come to my side and grasp my hand tightly as Madame Giry backed away with the old rag in hand. She dipped it into a water basin on the floor next to a few chairs where I saw yet another figure sitting in the chair farthest away from my bed. It was Meg.

She looked at her feet as our eyes met. As soon as this happened, I knew something was wrong.

_Of course something is wrong. Do you need to remember how many deaths you caused in one day? She sees you as a murderer, and that will never change! Soon, everyone will think that…_

My head twitched to the side in an attempt to knock out that wretched little voice that penetrated my mind- obviously at the worst moment possible I had low self-esteem. Though I thoroughly doubted these cruel thoughts, I couldn't help but wonder how many losses we had that day. There was William of course- horribly enough I saw that with my own eyes- but then what of Edward? Was he killed on false prosecution because I wasn't there to defend him? Maybe my presence would've made things worst… but either way I would've known what had happened and wouldn't have this hole in my chest that would either be filled or be torn even wider by the result of Edward's fate. Next was Peter- even though I didn't know his that well and still didn't, I hoped that he escaped the police forces by staying away from the top, and the ground floor. There was my "accident" which, from fact, I was sure I lived through it, but depending on the consequences of these people's chances of living through the day, it could have either made my life span longer, or shorter.

"Christine…" I whispered for only her to hear, which was impossible with the lack of other noise to drain it out.

"Yes?" she asked simply.

"What happened…that night?"

Instead of answering, she gave me a sad smile. "I should be asking you that, Little Lotte." I was stunned from her calling me that. It was only on rare, horrible occasions she called me that to try and lift my spirits. It only happened a few times. The first time was the very first day I came to the opera house, devastated at my mother's disappearance and fearful of the outcome of my life. The others I couldn't remember at that moment, but I didn't try to recall them in fear of evoking some horrible memories.

"I don't remember…what happened to me" I lied, trying to ease my way out of revealing the truth of my life to her. Thankfully, like always, she didn't seem satisfied with the answer but let it go anyway. And instead of analyzing it further, Christine told me.

"Well, first off, the Opera House has closed down." She paused waiting for my response, but I didn't give her one, so she continued. "They assumed no one would buy a single ticket after what had happened, so they closed it all down. Second, as you saw, William is dead. Because of this, they arrested that older stagehand friend of yours-"

"Edward?" I corrected.

"Yes, him! Well, because they couldn't find any evidence of the _real _killer they arrested him and no one has heard from him since. They also arrested that other boy, um…Peter I think his name was."

By now, I was more than heartbroken. I was damaged beyond repair. I couldn't even save Peter- now that was pathetic! I was well aware of the consequences that they both had to face because of their false murder. I also knew that they wouldn't be able to defend themselves because of the positions they were in when the police forces found them. And it was too late to try and save them. Because of this, I felt empty.

Edward was old enough to be forced to face the greatest penance of them all- death. And then Peter, who couldn't have been a few years older than me, could have faced the same fate. I wasn't sure the consequence for someone at that age applied.

As much as I didn't want to, I forced myself to listen to Christine.

"Even with all this going on, you should consider yourself lucky, Lizzie! I saw them on the lookout for you too! With my own eyes! Luckily, you were on the roof, no one checked there… even though _that _happened to you..." She pointed to my covered neck. For the first time, I thought I didn't need to be reminded- the pain was too harsh to ignore, but with all this grief settling in the pit of my stomach, it seemed like a small, unimportant injury compared to it.

Christine stopped her horror story, searching my face for emotion- all my lost friends, and suddenly, I did the same. There was no expression on my face at all, no hints of sadness or suggestions of grief- nothing. Just a blank slate waiting to be painted on. Appropriate for the never-ending pit of despair called my emotions. I couldn't press the need to _feel_ anything. I didn't want to _feel_ any more pain than I already had to physically, I just wanted to stop everything…

No! I couldn't! Christine was here and needed someone to be there for her. Now that everything had settled down, Erik would be out to get her this time, just like he said he would…

_But why didn't he then? If he were serious then she would've been dead days ago. Admit it, he isn't after her- he's after you! He tried to kill you while she goes unharmed. She doesn't need you to protect her. Staying away from her would be your best shot. Keeping him away from her by having you as the bait…_

Lies. Erik didn't kill me, and I was sure he was out for her now. He did everything for a reason and not killing me was completely for that reason!

_She doesn't need some expressionless coward that hides from her own feelings! Remember how happy she was with her beloved?_

No, I don't want to remember…

_Without you…_

"That's enough!" I yelled out loud on accident. Madame Giry, Meg, and Christine where looking at me worried.

"I'm sorry!" Christine apologized quickly.

I looked at her- surprised at the response she gave, while she looked at the bed sheets, ashamed, though she shouldn't be of course.

I tried to reassure her. "No Christine it's not your fault, no need to apologize-"

"Girls…" Madame Giry interrupted me as she gained the attention of her daughter and Christine. "You may leave now, I must talk with our patient…"

She looked me straight in the eyes as Christine hesitantly stood up from her kneeling position and started her way for the door with Meg. If any other person were to command her to leave my side, Christine would've put up a fight. However it was Madame Giry, so she didn't try to linger.

As Meg and Christine walked through the doorway, all was silent, except for Madame Giry's feet shuffling against the floor, making her way to the door and shutting it.

I could feel the anxiety coming from my own body, as she didn't move from her place behind the door- it seemed she was listening through it to make sure no one would eavesdrop on our future conversation that I so sorely dreaded. However, from the beginning I knew Madame Giry would find out about all of my scams to try and keep everyone pleased, and how this discussion may make a new face for me. I knew that there was no escaping her impeccable knowledge about everyone in this opera house, especially something this big.

A few moments in this silence, and it was already growing unbearable. I tried to prepare myself for what I was going to say, but in the end, it didn't matter- she would get the answers she wanted. And who knew? She might have already known them all…

"Madame," I stated formally, "I really don't know what had happened that night-"

"Of course you do. And if you don't keep in the shadows, soon everyone will know what happened." Her words came harsh and fast, as if she had already them. I was shocked at her response. She_ did_ already know, that didn't shock me, but how could everyone else know? Would she really reveal me to everyone?

"What do you mean?" I asked slowly and carefully, emphasizing my confusion.

"I mean," Madame Giry walked from the door, after locking it, to the side of my bed, looming over like a shadow as she continued, "if anyone sees you in the state you are in, you will be exposed."

I was still puzzled, why did she always have to talk in riddles and never get to the point?

"And why is that?" I countered.

She gave me a sad sigh, taking a break from her proud personality for one of the first times, and walked away from my bed, scanning my desks for something.

"Do you have a mirror in here?" she asked out of the blue. I was confused by this for two reasons: why did she want a mirror and was she really that slow to recognize the floor-to-ceiling mirror right in front of her?

"Yes…"

"Where?" I was about to start bursting into laughter about the response I was about to give until she added, "a hand-held one, Lizzie, I'm not that dim-witted to not see the big one."

_Oh._

"Yes, there is one on top of the dresser." I hoped it was still there, though I still couldn't see the point that Madame Giry was trying to get across to me.

She took the oval mirror that laid atop my dresser and handed it you me. I could barley see myself in this scarce light, but I could tell I looked absolutely horrible. Blood dried to the sleeves of my clothes and face covered with dry skin as a result of the wind that blew straight threw me as I lied on the cold floor of the roof.

Just as the light started to adjust in my eyes, Madame Giry grasped the wet cloth still soaking my wound and pulled it off without any intention of keeping it painless. The sensation of cold air touching the injury sent shivers down my spine, but what I saw in the mirror made my heart cease to continue pounding, for my wound wasn't bleeding like I thought it was, it was already starting to scab.

I winced at what I saw, for the scar that was placed on my neck wasn't an ordinary one, it wasn't some random pile of scratches like the wound should've been, it wasn't an injury that could have a million possibilities to how I got it. There was only one story that went along with it, and with the shape of the scab left on my neck- it was a long, complicated, and dangerous story. That was why Madame Giry didn't let anyone else see it but herself, for the scar put all of my biggest mistakes on display for everyone to see. There was no hiding it. There was no getting rid of it. For what the Opera Ghost left carved on my neck would have his identity on it until I was dead and buried.

I was horrified of what Erik did. He didn't mean to kill me, just like I thought before, but it wasn't because of the reasons I pondered on. He wanted me alive, to the point where I didn't want to be alive. He was going to make me suffer.

Suffer at the point where I couldn't escape one thought of him. Suffer where I couldn't go into the light and feel the warmth of the sun. Suffer just as I did under the catacombs of the opera- unable to get to Christine. Unable to escape darkness, because darkness was now the only thing protecting me from the reality of what I would've had to face. Reasons for this? Because Erik was that serious when he said I would always belong to him even if I didn't agree to it. For on my neck was his famous marking- blood red and sloppy, just like his handwriting.

_OG,_ it read.

I lifted my hand to touch the Opera Ghost's legendary signature, now carved on my throat, to see if it was reality or just a trick of the light.

I lightly stroked the scab, careful not to put pressure on it, and to my dismay, I could feel the letters permanently distinct among my neck, eventually turning into a white scar that would lie there forever, turning heads and pointing fingers and there was not a single thing I could do to change it.

I slowly put the mirror down onto my chest, now rising and falling with intense speed as I came to the knowledge that I could never escape him. I felt tears threatening to fall out of my eyes as I covered my mouth that was letting out unwanted gasps and sobs.

What have I done?

Madame Giry thankfully took the mirror from my hand, not letting me have any other glimpse of reality I would have to face if I was ever to see sunlight. As she put it back on to dresser, she took the dare to talk.

"I don't know what is really going on between you and him, but all I can say right now to you is: _Why_? Why put yourself in that much risk? You are smart- very smart, I know. Why didn't you think of the consequences of what would happen if you bargained with him?"

I didn't answer. I didn't have the strength to, for I could feel it draining from me faster than light. All I could do was lie in bed, dumbfounded at what really happened. And just as I started to think about her questions, I heard the door slam shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts. In a little while, they would get dangerous.

Depression, I could feel it coming.

_What do you have to live for anymore? William is dead because of you. Edward and Peter are gone to face the court because of your dumb ideas. Erik purposely let you live because he wanted you to suffer just as he did for so many years. Christine has her Vicomte, and you can't even see her because of that ugly scar. And if she did even manage to see it, do you know how disgusted she would be of you? Making deals with the Opera Ghost in attempt to give her to him? You don't have anything any more, anyone to keep you company. Everywhere you go will be a living hell…_

**A/N It's a short chapter, I know, but the next one will be much more exciting and longer! Please R&R!**


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